He finished his beer and returned to the kitchen for another. Raising it to the ceiling, he guzzled half of it, then slammed it on the bench — so hard the pale liquid fizzed and slopped out of the narrow neck and over his fingers. Okay, Yumiko, if this is the way you want to play it…
His gaze moved to the rubbish bin beside the pantry. He stared at it blankly for a moment, then opened the lid, removed the plastic bag liner and dumped it on the bench. It stank of fish, and he wrinkled his nose in disgust as he parted the discarded vegetable matter on top, revealing the contents of a tin of tuna, mixed with soggy Weet-Bix. Feeling queasy, he took some rubber gloves from the cupboard under the sink and pulled them on before delving deeper into the mess. He uncovered a brown banana, a rotten apple and a mouldy grapefruit, but not what he was looking for. He sighed and was about to give up when he spied a crumpled ball of paper, now sodden and discoloured, smushed at the bottom of the bag.
He placed it on the bench, removed his gloves and carefully unfolded it. The ink had run but the writing was still legible. He took his cellphone out and dialled Kate’s number.
SEVEN
Once the kettle had boiled, Kate poured the steaming water into a cup with an organic green tea bag. She packed a few more groceries away, then took a tentative sip to judge for flavour. Satisfied, she leaned against the kitchen counter, her eyes closed, both hands clasped around the mug.
Her moment of peace was destroyed by the sound of her phone ringing. She pulled it out of her handbag and answered, not recognising the number. “Hello,” she said. “Kate speaking.”
“Uhh… hi, Kate. It’s Evan.”
Her heart leapt into her chest. “Oh, hi, Evan. How are you?”
“Yeah, good thanks. Hey, listen, I… ahh… just wanted to apologise for earlier today.”
“What, for your poor taste in friends?”
“Well, yeah, I guess… but mostly for the way I bailed on you. That was rude of me, sorry.”
Kate poked her head into the lounge to check on Corbin. He was happily watching TV, munching on an apple. “Ahh… thanks. But if you had to go, you had to go. How was the doctor’s anyway? No bad news, I hope.”
There was a pause before he replied, “Nah, all good.”
She left Corbin and proceeded down the hall to her bedroom. Waiting for Evan to continue, she stood in front of the mirror and stared at her reflection, noting with distaste the contrast between her bed, which was now set with the pristine coverings she had purchased in Queenstown — so white they almost glowed — and the dark bags under her eyes.
Finally, Evan spoke. “Look, Kate, I know it may not have seemed like it, but I really did enjoy your company this morning.”
Kate raised her eyebrows, taking a strawberry chap-stick from the dresser and applying it before answering. “Until Jamie came along.”
“Jamie? He surprised me, is all. He gets on my nerves. Anyway, I’d like to make it up to you. Would you be keen for dinner tomorrow? I’ll make the drive this time and we can do it over your way.”
Lowering the phone, Kate pursed her lips and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, her stomach fluttering. She’d been upset by the sudden nature of his departure but until then, she’d been happy to be with him — a little delirious even, if she were being honest. And this was, after all, the desired outcome for the ruse with her phone number. All that effort would be for nought if she turned him down. But still, something held her back, not the least of which was her suspicion that his doctor’s appointment was pure fabrication. Placing the phone back to her ear, she said, “Did you have anywhere in mind?”
“How about the pub?”
“Which pub?”
“You know… what’s it called? The Dunstan Hotel.”
Her heart sank. “Oh.” She knew the building and tried to remember if she’d ever been there. She had a vague recollection of sticky carpets, Formica tables, and wall decorations of framed rugby jerseys, but that could just have been the stock mental image she had for the word pub. New Zealand country pubs tended to stick to a theme.
“What’s wrong? You don’t want to go there?”
No, I don’t, she thought. Instead, she said, “Well, I’m not sure… I—”
“We can try somewhere else. I just like the pub, is all. Friendly staff, and the food is actually pretty good.”
She considered the suggestion. The one good thing about the Dunstan Hotel was that her friend Tracy worked there. Although, she thought, maybe that’s not a good thing. It was Tracy she’d been with the second time she’d met Evan. She’d been pushing Corbin down the street in his buggy, debating with herself whether to tell Tracy about Lawrence’s betrayal when Evan had suddenly appeared in front of her, like a vision from heaven. To her dismay, her subsequent suggestion that the three of them go for coffee had been met with open hostility by Tracy. No doubt embarrassed, Evan had made some excuse and slipped away, cutting their encounter short.
Her thinking was interrupted by an angry shout from down the hall. She rushed to investigate and found Lawrence standing in the kitchen holding a bawling Corbin, his head buried into Lawrence’s shoulder.
Lawrence was a handsome man, lean and angular, his dark skin, black hair and brown eyes betraying his Mediterranean heritage. People sometimes mistook him for a Maori, but his nose suggested otherwise. It was prominent and pointed, with a convex hump. Kate had fallen for his looks and it wasn’t until later that she’d discovered his temper. His lip curled into a nasty sneer when he saw her.
“Where the fuck were you?”
“Pardon?” Kate glared at him. She raised the phone to her ear again. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. I’ve got a visitor.”
“Is everything okay?” said Evan. “I can hear crying.”
“Everything’s fine. I just have a small pest problem I need to deal with. I’ll call you back, okay?”
“Ahh, sure. I can—”
“Bye.” She hung up, placing her phone on the counter.
Lawrence gave an ugly snort. “A pest problem?”
“What the hell are you doing in my kitchen?” Kate snarled.
“You’re bloody lucky I am in our kitchen. Do you know what I found when I got here?”
“No, I don’t. And perhaps this is news to you, but you don’t live here anymore! You can’t just barge in whenever you feel like it. If you want to come in, you need to knock, just like anyone else.”
“Screw that. I’m paying the mortgage — I’ll come in whenever I want. And you’re lucky I did,” he said, jabbing a finger at her, “because when I opened the door I found Corbin sitting on the floor with a plastic shopping bag over his head. Not that you’d know — too busy gossiping on the phone.”
“Rubbish.”
“No, it’s not. Why do you think he’s so upset?” Lawrence kissed Corbin’s head. “Another couple of minutes and it could’ve been all over. What kind of a mother leaves her child unsupervised to play with plastic bags?”
“I didn’t! He was watching TV and the bags were all on the bench.”
“Well they’re not anymore, are they?” Lawrence, gestured to the bags scattered across the kitchen floor. “I suppose you leave him alone in the bath too?”
Kate closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. She opened them again, meeting Lawrence’s gaze, his eyes cold and hard. “No, I don’t. I’m a good mother.”
“Sure, let the TV do the babysitting while you talk on the phone. That’s great mothering, all right. Who were you talking to anyway?”
“None of your business.”
“It is so. If they’re more important to you than looking after your own son, I think I should be kept in the loop.”
Kate slumped against the pantry door. “I don’t have the energy for this. It’s been a long day, and I need to start getting dinner ready. Is there something you wanted? Because if there isn’t, I’d like you to leave.”
“I’ll leave when you tell me who was on the phone.”
“I told
you, it’s none of your business.”
Lawrence scowled at her, then shook his head. “Suit yourself. I came to ask if I can have Corbin this weekend.” He stroked Corbin’s head and his crying eased, reducing to a sniffle.
Kate didn’t ever want him to have Corbin, if she was honest, but she’d been trying her best to accommodate his role in Corbin’s life since he’d moved out, as difficult as that was. “It’s not your turn.”
“I know, but it’s race day at the speedway on Saturday. I’d like to take him.”
“You want to take Corbin to the speedway?”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing,” said Kate. “You’ve just never shown any interest in the speedway before.”
“Cromwell’s a small town. You have to take advantage of things when they happen. Besides, loud cars and mud — Corbin’ll love it.”
Kate considered his request. Corbin would love it, but that wasn’t the point. “Look, it’s only Monday. I’ll think about it and get back to you. Now, please, can you leave?”
Lawrence smirked. “Not till you tell me who was on the phone.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Lawrence, you really want to know? It was my boyfriend, all right? Calling to arrange a date.”
Lawrence’s jaw dropped, and she had to admit there was considerable satisfaction in that. “You’ve got a boyfriend?” he asked, blinking.
“Uh-huh.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little soon for that?”
She gave a scornful laugh. “You’ve got a girlfriend. I’m just following your lead.”
“It’s not as simple as that,” said Lawrence, shifting his weight, moving Corbin further up his shoulder.
“It’s not? How simple is it then?”
Lawrence made as if to speak, but stopped, shaking his head.
There was silence for a moment, and Kate rubbed her eyes. A headache was brewing behind them.
“Are you done?” Lawrence didn’t answer, so she continued. “You know where the door is.”
Lawrence looked at her, eyes narrowed, then he gave Corbin a kiss on the forehead and placed him gently on the floor. “See you later, buddy. Stay away from those plastic bags.” To Kate he said, “Make sure you supervise him next time you’re unloading the shopping. It could have been a lot worse.”
Kate wanted to tell him to get fucked, but thought better of it. Minding her tongue was exhausting, but so was confrontation, and she wanted him out of the house. Massaging her temple, she said, “Goodbye, Lawrence.”
Lawrence turned and walked away.
“Daddy?” said Corbin, following him.
Kate snatched him back.
“Daddy!” he wailed, struggling in her arms.
“Don’t cry, Corbin. Daddy’s gone now.”
The front door slammed and she heard Lawrence’s car starting up. Sighing, she slid to the floor, her back pressed against the pantry door, holding Corbin tight, stroking his hair. When his sobs had subsided she reached for her cellphone, a dull ache pulsing in her skull. She sucked in a slow breath, then, lips pressed firmly together, called Evan back. After a couple of rings, he answered.
“Hello.”
“Hi, Evan, it’s Kate.”
“Hi.” He paused, the line buzzing in her ear, then said, “You okay? You sound tired.”
“Yes,” she said, “I am. It’s been a long day.” She took another deep breath. “Ahh… about dinner tomorrow… I’d love to.”
“Okay, great.”
Hearing the relief in his voice, she gave a thin smile. There was the small problem of Corbin, but she was sure she could find someone to mind him.
He asked, “Where do you want to go?”
The way she felt right now, a cardboard box under a bridge would be fine. So long as she could stick it to Lawrence, it didn’t matter. “Let’s do the pub.”
“You sure?” said Evan.
“Why not? I love the smell of stale beer and urine.”
EIGHT
Kate fed Corbin another spoonful of kumara mash, then checked her watch. She’d arrived at the Dunstan Hotel half an hour earlier and had almost finished her wine — if Evan didn’t show up soon she was going to go home.
She cast her eyes about the room again, wrinkling her nose. She’d decided she hadn’t been there before, but the carpet was sticky and there were framed rugby jerseys on the wall, so her prediction had been correct. The only thing she’d gotten wrong were the tables, which were dark wood rather than Formica. Alongside the rugby jerseys, the walls were adorned with enlarged, sepia-toned historical photographs from the 1860s gold rush — railways and water races, tent villages in barren landscapes, and dour, moustachioed men in hats and waistcoats standing before piles of broken rock — interesting enough in their way, but hardly romantic.
There were a few other patrons in the pub — two older men propped on wooden stools at the bar with pint glasses in hand, a couple hunched, zombie-like, at the pokie machines in the far corner, and a group of three seated at a table nearby. A larger group of eight men were drinking at a high table in front of the bar. They’d gone quiet as Kate entered with Corbin, their stares making her feel uncomfortable.
Tracy was working the evening shift. Kate had called her earlier in the day, and after berating Kate for her choice of venue had said she would do her very best with the limited resources she had at her disposal to create an appropriate mood for the encounter. Kate wasn’t quite sure what she’d meant by that, and had half-expected to be shown to a table set with condoms and nipple clamps, but when Tracy led her to a table in the opposite corner of the room from the pokie machines it was set with a spotless white tablecloth, two candles protruding from wax-covered wine bottles, and glass bowl of water with pink flower petals floating daintily on the surface.
She swirled the red dregs of her wine and took a sip, giving Corbin a faint smile. She’d been unable to find anyone to look after him. To be fair to her friends she hadn’t tried very hard, because she’d realised that of the few she knew well enough to ask, none would approve of her reason for asking. When she and Lawrence first moved to Cromwell Kate hadn’t known anyone, and being a stay-at-home mum, the only close friends she’d made had been through church.
Unfortunately, all those friends thought she’d been callous and spiteful to set Lawrence’s belongings on fire and kick him out of the house, and weren’t afraid to express their disapproval. As a result, Kate had stopped going to church. The only one who did understand — indeed, the one who had suggested she set fire to Lawrence’s ‘shit’ in the first place — was Tracy. So Kate had decided to bring Corbin along to the pub with her, and if Evan had a problem with it — well, that was just tough titties for him. Now she was glad she had. She felt stupid, shifting uncomfortably in her seat, waiting for Evan to show, and she wouldn’t have waited this long if Corbin hadn’t been here with her.
Tracy approached her from behind the bar. She was young, only twenty-one, and painfully thin, with fiery red hair and freckles. She wore stretch denim jeans and a black shirt with the hotel logo embroidered on the chest, her sleeves rolled up to reveal pale, speckled arms. She had intelligent brown eyes with long lashes, and while perhaps not conventionally beautiful, she was disparaging about her own appearance in a manner that was entirely contrary to the reality of it.
“Still not here, huh?” she asked. “You want another wine?”
“I don’t know, Trace. Once Corbin’s finished I think I’ll head home.”
“Go on, have another one. So the man’s a little late. What’s it matter? Sit back, relax, enjoy the atmosphere.”
“What atmosphere?”
“The one of quiet desperation,” said Tracy, smiling. “Seriously though, even if he doesn’t show up you can still order dinner. I know this place doesn’t look like much, but the food’s actually pretty good.”
“I don’t think so — it’s embarrassing enough just sitting here with those men constantly stealing glances.”
She looked over at the big table.
Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl was playing on the sound system and one of the party, a tall, lean man wearing a five o’clock shadow and a battered black beanie, turned and winked at them as he crooned along with the chorus.
“Oh, don’t worry about them, they’re harmless.” Tracy, leaned closer. “See the ugly bearded one?” she whispered, tilting her head towards a solid man with a scruffy brown beard, wearing work boots, corduroy trousers and a fluorescent yellow hi-vis jacket. He was pouring himself a beer from a plastic jug.
Kate nodded.
“Steve Gibson. They’re celebrating cos it’s his birthday. What kind of a man wears that ensemble to his own birthday party?”
Kate giggled.
“He’s all class, that one. Anyway, have a think about dinner. I’ll bring you another wine.”
“No, thanks, Trace, I—”
“On the house,” said Tracy, heading back to the bar.
Kate sighed, pushing another spoonful of mash towards Corbin.
“Mine,” he said, reaching for the spoon. She gave it to him and he shoved the contents into his mouth, then jabbed the spoon back into his bowl.
Something moved in the corner of her eye, and she turned to see Evan entering through the heavy wooden door of the pub. He saw her, waved, and ambled over.
“Hello,” she said coolly. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d stood me up.”
Evan gave a sheepish grin. “Yeah, sorry about that. It was slow going through the gorge. Black ice.” His eyes flicked to Corbin. “I see we’ve got someone else joining us.”
“Yes. I tried to find a babysitter but everyone was busy. I hope you don’t mind.”
Evan took off his beanie and stuffed it in the pocket of his jacket, a stray blonde curl falling over his eyes. He brushed the curl back and took his jacket off, draping it over the back of the chair opposite Kate. He was wearing jeans again — darker blue than the pair he’d worn yesterday — brown slip-on dress shoes and a pale-grey button-down shirt that hung loose over his waist. The colour suited him, accenting the blue of his eyes. “I don’t mind at all,” he said, his lips parting in a warm smile.
Taking the Plunge Page 5