Blackpeak Station Page 17

  ‘But he isn’t here,’ her mother went on in a firmer voice. ‘I am. And I know’ — she reached up and took Charlotte’s hand — ‘that this is what you’ve always wanted.’

  She felt her jaw drop. Seriously?

  ‘All I want …’ Andrea sniffed, squeezing Charlotte’s fingers. ‘All I’ve ever wanted is for you to be happy. Really happy, I mean. I didn’t want you to miss out …’ Charlotte sat down beside her, leaning into her arm. Her mother patted her hand, fingers absentmindedly realigning the tennis bracelet on her wrist. ‘But maybe you can have everything,’ Andrea smiled. ‘You go for it.’ With a shake of her head, she drew herself up. ‘Both of you!’

  She opened her arms to Charlotte.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Back out in the hall, Nick ducked his head to study Charlotte’s face.

  ‘Uhuh.’ Avoiding his eyes, she waved her hand at him. ‘I’m just … I’m just going to pop outside.’

  She hurried out through the front door and down the steps, then, slowing, walked the length of the lawn. Her mother, on her side. Who knew? Reaching the old drystone wall at the bottom of the slope, she climbed it and sat down, looking out at the willows. She sniffed. She should have brought a tissue.

  ‘Hey.’

  Charlotte wiped her eyes quickly with her hand as Luke came up behind her.

  ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She leaned back against his chest and let out a deep breath as his arms tightened around her.

  ‘I said you could do it, didn’t I?’ He kissed the back of her neck. ‘How’d she take it?’

  ‘Good.’ She shook her head in wonder. ‘Really well.’

  ‘That’s great.’ Luke’s hands stroked her ribcage. ‘She should be proud of you. It takes a lot of guts to do what you’re doing.’

  She smiled. ‘Are you saying I’m crazy?’

  ‘I’m saying you’re not a girl who plays it safe. I love that about you.’

  Charlotte caught her breath. Love?

  ‘We’re risk-takers, you and I,’ he went on softly. ‘That’s what makes us so good together.’

  Maybe it was. Was that what she … loved … about Luke? The adrenalin rush? Never knowing what to expect? Okay, so maybe it was a risk, whatever this thing was between them. But didn’t everything worth having come at a risk?

  She tilted her head to look at him. ‘Do you ride?’

  He grinned. ‘Horses? Never.’

  ‘Okay … you want to go for a drive?’

  Charlotte circled the quad bike and killed the engine at the top of Rough Creek Spur. The spur rose at the point where the homestead’s flats met the hills, an ancient moraine long covered in soil and grass shelving gently up Rough Creek. Luke brought his bike around beside her.

  ‘Pretty place.’

  At the head of the gully behind them, through a gap in the hills, Mount Pickford and its blue glacier sat perfectly framed. The view was open to north and east, with the sun streaming onto the spur. Below, the terrace stretched to its sudden end, homestead and outbuildings glinting at its edge, before the land plunged to the river flats. Beyond that, the Rosalie Range — almost bare of snow now — rose steeply into the eastern sky.

  Charlotte swung off the bike. ‘I’ve always thought that if I could build myself a place anywhere on the station, it’d be here.’

  Luke followed her. He looked around, considering. ‘Expensive … But not impossible.’

  She smiled. ‘Access might be a bit of a problem.’

  ‘It’s only — what, a couple of k’s? — past the homestead.’ Idly, he paced out a patch of tussock. ‘That’s doable, utilities-wise.’

  ‘And the builders?’

  ‘Just helicopter everything in.’ He shrugged. ‘We’ve built that way before — in the islands, mainly.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘The company, I mean.’

  Charlotte frowned. ‘Cooper Liddell Sachs?’

  ‘No, my company — well, my father’s, actually, I’m just on the board. Pegasus Projects.’

  Okay — this was new information. ‘So … you have two jobs?’

  Why didn’t she know this? She shook out her ponytail and retied it. Because, she answered herself, they never talked. And why was that?

  Right on cue, Luke grinned and took two steps forward. ‘I do a lot of things.’ Backing her up against the quad bike, he lifted her onto the tray. ‘Do that with your hair again.’

  ‘You know, I don’t know anything about you.’

  He played with the top button of her jeans. ‘You want me to talk to you?’

  ‘Yes. Please.’

  He undid the button. ‘I like it when you say please.’ His fingers moved down to the next. ‘Maybe you should talk to me.’

  Something buzzed against her inner thigh. ‘Christ,’ Luke fumbled in his pocket, pulling out his phone. ‘Is it ten-thirty already?’ He turned off the alarm. ‘I said I’d call Michael.’

  He had to be kidding. Now? Charlotte groaned as Luke backed off, retrieved the satellite phone from his jacket pocket and set up the aerial.

  ‘Why don’t you just call him from the landline when we get home?’

  ‘Where’s the fun in that?’ He flashed her a grin as he dialled. ‘My clients don’t like it when they can’t get me.’

  She knew how they felt. With a sigh, Charlotte did up her jeans and walked off.

  ‘Michael … absolutely I am … uh-huh … all under control … so where are we with Tsang?’

  By the time Luke had finished talking to Crompton, checked his voicemail, his email and sent a few texts, the morning had clouded over and rain was threatening behind the hills. Charlotte pulled on her jacket. ‘We’d better head back.’

  They blasted back to the homestead, outrunning the rain. Once inside, Luke, armed with their wi-fi password and his laptop, retreated to the office.

  Charlotte went in to get him at one o’clock. ‘How about some lunch?’

  ‘Thanks.’ He didn’t look up. ‘You’re an absolute star. I’ll have a sandwich.’

  The rain had settled in. Having made Luke’s sandwich — much to Jen’s disgust — Charlotte, at a loss to know what to do with the rest of her day off, settled down on her bed with a book. A giggle made its way across the hall from Nick’s room. Pulling a face, she got up, closed the door and reached for her iPod.

  Sometime later, a hand slid over her breast and Luke slipped out her earphones. ‘I’m really sorry,’ he murmured into her neck, curling in behind her.

  She put down her book. ‘That’s okay.’ At least he was here now. ‘You had to work.’

  ‘It’s worse than that.’ His thumb found its way under her bra. ‘I need to get back. I have to be in the office tomorrow.’

  ‘No!’ She rolled over to look at him. ‘But it’s Christmas!’

  ‘Not in Shanghai.’

  Bugger Shanghai. ‘But you said you’d stay for New Year!’

  ‘Hey.’ His thumb resumed its work. ‘It’s not like I want to leave.’

  ‘Then don’t.’

  His other hand toyed, again, with the button of her jeans. ‘I’m here now.’

  Charlotte bit her lip. She knew she should tell him where to go ‘now’ if he was going … but on the other hand — she gasped — he was making a very good point. Arching her back, she conceded defeat as Luke moved down.

  Chapter FIFTEEN

  On the afternoon of December 31st, Charlotte fed the dogs morosely. Time to face the fact that Luke really wasn’t going to make it tonight — it was so unfair. The last thing she needed was another New Year’s Eve bash in the aptly named Poverty Hall by herself, getting hit on by every desperate shepherd for three hundred miles. They’d never believe she really did have a boyfriend this time — she’d been using that one for years. And this time she was low on moral support, as well. Her mother had gone to visit friends in Wanaka and Nick, having dropped Andrea off, had taken Flavia down to Queenstown.

  She walked back to find Matt’s ute
outside the homestead. In the kitchen, Kath had put aside her duties as president of the High Country Women’s Social Club New Year’s Eve Ball Committee for a moment to make the new arrivals a cup of tea.

  ‘It was so hot in this kitchen on Christmas Day,’ Kath was saying, ‘I thought I was going to roast, never mind the turkey. Pass me that cup, would you, Siri dear — oh! You haven’t?’ She seized Siri’s hand. ‘You have! Oh, Matt! Oh, congratulations, both of you!’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Oh, Charlie, isn’t it wonderful! They’re — oh, well, you tell her, Matt!’

  Matt grinned. ‘Me and Siri are getting married.’

  ‘You’re not! Bloody hell … that’s amazing.’ Charlotte slapped Matt’s back. ‘You kept that one pretty quiet, didn’t you?’

  ‘So have you set a date?’ Kath’s eyes were glistening.

  Siri opened her mouth, but her answer was interrupted first by the arrival of Rex, then Jen, who both had to be told the happy news.

  ‘You sly bastard,’ exclaimed Jen. ‘What, has her visa run out or something?’

  ‘I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for, girl.’ Rex shook his head at Siri.

  ‘Never mind the tea.’ Charlotte reached some glasses out. ‘This calls for a bottle of bubbly.’

  ‘To Matt and Siri,’ Rex pronounced solemnly when the glasses were full.

  ‘To Siri,’ corrected Jen. ‘Good luck, mate — you’ll need it.’

  ‘So,’ resumed Kath, ‘when’s the big day?’

  ‘Easter, we thought.’ Siri gave Matt’s shoulder a squeeze.

  ‘Oh, an Easter bride,’ sighed Kath. ‘I was an Easter bride, wasn’t I, Rex — do you remember?’

  ‘Of course I bloody remember.’

  Charlotte, smiling, exchanged a glance with Jen. ‘Well, I suppose we could spare you for a bit around then. I know you’ll be worried about how we’ll get through without you, but I’m sure we can manage for the day.’

  ‘You could have the service in the garden here,’ suggested Jen, ‘and then give us a hand with the crutching in the afternoon.’

  Siri looked a bit worried. Matt, however, was unimpressed. ‘Yeah, ha ha, you bastards — wherever we have it, you two won’t be invited.’

  Charlotte was already feeling slightly bleary-eyed by the time they set off for Poverty Hall that evening, Matt and Siri in his ute, the rest of them sharing Rex’s now-classic Statesman. As Charlotte and Jen slid into the back seat, Rex patted the steering wheel proudly.

  ‘About time my old girl had an outing.’

  ‘That’s what I keep telling you, dear,’ replied Kath.

  Giggling, Charlotte and Jen reclined on the old velour and played with the electric windows.

  From the eaves of tiny Poverty Hall, party lights shone down on a scruffy assemblage of utes, stationwagons and SUVs, gleaming here and there in the wax of other ‘old girls’ out for a drive. The soundtrack to Mamma Mia was playing inside. Rex opened the boot of the Statesman and stood by while Kath loaded him up with boxes of cups and plates, spoons and forks.

  ‘Oi!’ she called, spotting Charlotte and Jen as they sidled towards the door. ‘Ladies a plate, remember?’

  Jen rolled her eyes as an ice-cream container was thrust into her hands.

  ‘I don’t know,’ grumbled Kath. ‘I’ve made them for you, the least you can do is carry them in.’

  In the hall kitchen, their plates fought for space among boiled chickens, bacon and egg pies, vats of coleslaw and mountains of sausage rolls.

  ‘Not bad,’ said Charlotte, one of the latter having fallen into her mouth.

  ‘Out!’ instructed Kath firmly.

  ‘DJ’s okay too,’ mumbled Jen through a mouthful of chicken roll. ‘Where’s the bar?’

  Supper came and went, bringing husbands and wives together from opposing corners of the hall to share plastic plates of savouries and swap scandal. Then, once the committee had cleared the trestle tables away, the party began in earnest.

  Escaping the dance floor and Nathan Browne, Charlotte regathered her cup of wine and leaned against the wall beside Jen. Over at the bar, she could see the guys from Glencairn teasing Matt. She checked her watch. The last minutes of the old year were ticking away.

  ‘I can’t believe Matt’s getting married,’ she yelled in Jen’s ear.

  ‘I know.’

  They watched Siri, long blonde hair swinging, pull Matt onto the dance floor.

  ‘You don’t really think her visa’s run out?’

  Jen laughed. The song changed, and Siri nestled into Matt’s arms. ‘I doubt it.’

  ‘Do you ever think about it?’ Charlotte asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Getting married.’

  Jen shrugged. ‘It’d be nice, some day, I guess.’ There was a long pause. ‘Do you think about it?’

  ‘Not much — at least, not as a good thing.’ She smiled, only half-joking. ‘It was always Dad’s excuse — you know, why I couldn’t stay at Blackpeak. I’d want to get married one day. All that shit. I always told myself I wouldn’t.’

  ‘Things are different now.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Charlotte watched Matt dip Siri over his arm. ‘I guess they are.’

  Jen leaned forward, away from the wall, and looked into Charlotte’s face. ‘We’re not talking about Luke here, are we?’

  ‘No! Of course not — don’t be silly.’

  ‘Thank Christ for that.’

  Charlotte tried to think of a cutting reply, but was saved by a blast of feedback.

  ‘Ten!’ the DJ yelled.

  ‘Nine!’ roared a chorus of drunken voices from the dance floor.

  God, she wished Luke was here. Or pretty much anyone, for that matter. Seeing Nathan Browne lurch towards her, Charlotte rapidly took back the latter thought.

  ‘Happy New Year.’ Softly, Jen kissed her cheek. ‘It’ll be a good one, you’ll see.’

  ‘Yep!’ Rex stopped beside them, wavering only slightly, a jug in his hand. ‘It’s going to be a cracker.’ He inhaled the hot, sweaty air like a huntaway sniffing the breeze. ‘I can feel it in my bones, girls … here, have a beer.’

  Kath drove them home. On the kitchen bench, the answerphone’s light was flashing.

  ‘Guess who, huh?’ Jen stretched her shoulders. ‘Well, I’m off to bed — see you in the morning.’ She glanced at the clock and winced. ‘Later in the morning, I mean.’

  Charlotte took the handset through to her bedroom to listen to the message. Oh, and he’d only rung a few minutes ago — she wished she hadn’t missed him.

  ‘Hi.’ She felt her insides contract as Luke’s recorded voice caressed her ear. ‘I just wanted to say Happy New Year.’ There was music in the background — was he really at work? His voice slid down. ‘I wish I was … you know where. I miss you.’

  With a small groan, Charlotte put down the handset and started to get ready for bed. The phone rang. Startled, she picked it up.

  ‘Hello?’

  All she could hear was rustling.

  ‘Hello?’

  More rustling and a woman’s giggle, followed by a lot of heavy breathing. It sounded a bit like someone was … ugh! She hung up quickly. Yuk. Some drunk had obviously hit the wrong number. Hearing Jen’s bedroom door shut, Charlotte pulled on her dressing gown and, with a final small shudder, headed for the bathroom.

  A few hours later, she woke up to a morning as grey as her mood. The cloud hung low and damp, the sky flat, the valley wrapped in stillness. Unable to get back to sleep, Charlotte wandered out onto the verandah. She could hear the river running below. She massaged the hangover away from the back of her neck. The trout would be rising. She had nothing better to do today — she might as well go fishing.

  In the green light under the willows, Charlotte dug for worms, picking them out of the soil with a hunter’s glee and dropping them into her can. There was a spot where the last flood had cut under the tree roots and left behind a deep pool. In this
light, it was amber as a cat’s eye, the long green flecks of willow leaves barely moving on its surface. She made her cast. The line sang above the chatter of the river’s main channel. A fine rain began to fall softly. Charlotte reeled in and cast again.

  By the time she’d actually caught something, she was hungry. Having cleaned her trout, she slung it in her fishing bag and made her way back across the flood bank to the truck. Behind her, the river was muted. She could almost see the willows turning their thirsty leaves up to the rain.

  Jen was up and making coffee in the kitchen.

  ‘Look what I’ve got.’ Charlotte laid her fish on the draining board with a flourish.

  ‘Gee.’ Jen looked at it dubiously. ‘Good for you.’

  ‘Come on …’ She rummaged for a filleting knife. ‘Nobody’s too hung-over for half a fresh trout.’

  ‘Ugh. You’ve got some funny ideas about what a girl needs first thing on New Year’s morning.’

  ‘Hah. Told you so,’ said Charlotte fifteen minutes later, as Jen pushed away a buttery empty plate.

  The phone rang. She answered it cautiously.

  ‘Hi.’ Luke’s voice was more than usually rough. ‘Happy New Year.’

  Charlotte turned her back on Jen — God, he shouldn’t be able to do this to her just by saying hello. ‘Hi,’ she managed.

  ‘I just woke up,’ he growled, ‘and I can’t stop thinking about you. What are you doing tonight?’

  ‘What happened to Shanghai?’

  ‘Turns out they have New Year’s Day there too.’

  He got in just as the last of the sun was fading. The rain had stopped hours ago, and above the darkening hills a freshly washed sky glowed softly. Charlotte could hear the Range Rover coming, its tyres tearing up the dusk, silencing the nightly chorus of frogs in the garden pond. By the time she reached the back door, Luke was already out and stretching his shoulders. He was wearing his faded jeans and an ancient-looking sweatshirt with a tear in the sleeve. As she walked towards him, he ran a hand through his spiky hair and smiled. Her heart caught. She’d never seen him dishevelled before. He looked almost sweet. And younger.