Chapter Fifteen
“Turn right in four hundred yards,” said the tinny, electronic voice of Viv’s GPS.
“But is it a turn, Shel?” she queried. “Or are you—once again—confused by a side road on a sharp bend?”
Sheldon voiced no reply. So far their relationship had proved fractious, chiefly because Sheldon’s favorite advice was, “Perform a U-turn where possible.”
The plug-in GPS had been couriered to Merry’s home yesterday. No return address, no note, but Viv knew who’d sent it and felt a relief disproportionate to the gift. Ross wasn’t abandoning her entirely.
Now at 12:30 p.m. on Friday she was following Sheldon as if he were a trail of sonic breadcrumbs from the airport—where she’d just dropped Charlie—to Harry’s day care.
Charlie was flying to Christchurch for his Master Builders’ conference and wouldn’t be back until Monday night. All going well Merry would be home to greet him.
Viv should be kicking up her heels. For the past two days she’d been torn between relief that she no longer had to deal with her unsettling attraction to Ross and an urge to phone and find out if he was okay.
Who was she kidding? She missed him.
“Turn right in one hundred yards,” said Sheldon.
Viv flicked on her indicators and pulled into the turning lane.
While it was a huge relief to have Charlie gone for a few days, it couldn’t have come at a worse time for Tilly with her end-of-season match pending. She needed a parent around. Of course, as far as Charlie was concerned, she had one.
“If we don’t win, I’m gonna tell,” she’d threatened over breakfast.
“That would be breaking your word.”
“You broke your word. You said you’d take me to Laserforce with some friends.”
“And I will, honey, as soon as I can find a sitter for Harry, and learn all your friends’ and their families’ histories.”
“You’re not the fun one,” Tilly muttered. The kids were really missing their mother now, despite the daily Skype calls.
Merry fretted over being apart from them but wouldn’t let Viv change their routine for fear of triggering questions from Charlie. With reconciliation on the table, she was paranoid, absolutely paranoid about him finding out.
She’d had a new cell delivered to her hospital bed and now handled all calls with her husband, volunteering only the sketchiest information Viv needed for her brief encounters with Charlie around the kids’ schedules.
“I told him we had to start over, lots of talking without the distraction of the physical,” she’d said vaguely. “So he won’t be bothering you that way.”
Except there had been heat in her brother-in-law’s eyes when he’d said goodbye at the airport drop-off, and he’d murmured that he found the new rules a turn-on. Viv had a horrible suspicion they’d graduated to phone sex.
“Turn left in three hundred yards.”
“Thanks, Shel, I can take it from here.” Viv switched off the GPS, then frowned as she caught sight of the ambulance parked on the street outside the day care, its flashing light sweeping the building’s fence like a searchlight. There was an office block next door to the center, it was probably attending someone there.
Parking the car, Viv grabbed the flowers she’d bought for Susan from the passenger seat. The bright verbenas of burnt orange and yellow rustled in their cellophane wrapper as she hurried to the gate, arriving at the same time as another mother—a pretty redhead wearing a business suit. They exchanged anxious smiles.
“I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“But we worry anyway.”
Viv unlatched the gate and pushed it open. Mothers stood in small groups, clutching their kids, and talking in low tones. They glanced over when the two women arrived and Viv’s blood froze. The message couldn’t have been plainer. It’s one of ours. Beside her, the redhead moaned. Blindly, Viv scanned the playground for Harry.
All the kids had been taken outside the main building and were cheerful enough, playing, oblivious to the muted distress of the grown-ups. They were under the supervision of one teacher, a middle-aged woman, who stood when she spotted the new arrivals and began threading her way toward them. In her panic, Viv couldn’t remember her name.
“Iv.”
At her feet, Harry crawled out of one of the playground’s big concrete pipes. With a whimper, Viv fell to her knees, dropping the flowers and grabbing the baby in such a tight hug he squawked a protest and squirmed for freedom. She loosened her hold but didn’t release him, kissing his little cheek again and again.
He was safe. Her panic subsided and she felt guilty for her joy, ashamed.
Glancing up, she saw the ashen redhead being shepherded into the building. What could she do to help? Still clutching Harry, she staggered to her feet on legs that felt like they’d run a marathon.
The flowers lay on the ground. When she’d steadied herself Viv picked them up with her free hand and hurried to the nearest cluster of moms.
“What happened, can someone tell me?”
Jiggling her fretful child on one ample hip, a blonde nodded. “Johnny Campbell had an allergic reaction. Fortunately Susan recognized the symptoms quickly and ran for the epinephrine shot. His allergy’s so severe they keep it on hand.”
“Will he be okay?”
But the other woman was looking past her. Viv turned and they all stepped back as the ambulance officers came down the path with the stretcher. The redhead walked beside it. Johnny Campbell turned out to be the bombastic little guy who’d driven into Viv’s shins the first day she’d dropped Harry off. His small face was waxen, he whimpered, clinging tightly to his mother’s hand. Viv’s throat constricted.
The small convoy passed by, oblivious, gripped in their private drama. The gate clicked shut behind them.
“I don’t understand,” murmured the blonde. “We all know not to send anything containing nuts to day care. They remind us every week in the newsletter. How the hell could this have happened?”
“He’ll be fine.” Susan came out of the center, dispensing reassuring smiles. For the first time, she looked plain. “A day or two and he’ll be right as rain.” Her gaze lit on Viv and her smile lost its soothing quality. “Meredith, can I have a private word?” Taking Harry, she handed him to another teacher and steered Viv into the tiny office near the kids’ locker room and closed the door.
It felt like being called to the headmaster’s classroom at the tiny elementary school at Beacon Bay, only this time Viv hadn’t done anything wrong. She’d put Vegemite—the vegetable extract beloved of Kiwi kids—on Harry’s sandwiches this morning, same as always. “Are you okay?” she said to Susan, remembering her own shock and bewilderment after Linda’s accident. “Can I get you anything…a glass of water, a sweater?” The younger woman’s hands trembled as she pulled out a chair.
“No, thank you. Meredith—”
“Here.” Viv remembered the flowers. “I brought them as a thank you for promoting M—my cause with Charlie.” Susan didn’t take them, so she laid them on her cluttered desk. “You’ve certainly earned them.”
“I need to talk to you about what you put on Harry’s sandwich,” Susan said gently.
Viv relaxed. “Vegemite,” she said. “Same as every morning.” She could see herself putting the knife in the jar, spreading it on the bread, not too much…. “Harry only likes a little. Tilly on the other hand, can eat it by the spoonful. Personally I find the whole idea of yeast extract disgusting, never have got the taste for it.” She stopped. “Wait,” she said slowly. “We were out this morning. I went to the pantry…the jar was empty. I told Tilly off for putting it away empty.” Her hand crept to her mouth. “I put peanut butter on instead.”
“Johnny took a bite before he realized. Normally he’s very aware of avoiding any food but his own, but they started playing food monsters. And you’ve always been so careful with Harry’s lunch, the supervisor didn’t think to check.”
Over her hand, Viv stared at Susan, a dozen excuses springing to her lips. It’s not my fault. I’m only pretending to be Meredith. I had no idea we weren’t allowed to send peanut products to day care.
Except…she’d initiated the swap, she’d swept Merry’s protests aside, she’d been confident of bluffing her way through every situation that might arise.
“It’s my fault,” she rasped. “No one else’s…I’m so sorry.”
Numbly she remembered what she’d said to Dan at the funeral when she’d argued against Meredith telling the truth. This way no one gets hurt.
A child could have died.
Viv grabbed a shoe box of crayon drawings from the desk and upended it. The drawings fluttered to the floor in a spread of vivid color.
Then she vomited.
* * *
“Three kilometers to Muriwai,” said Sheldon, and Viv’s hands tightened nervously on the steering wheel.
The first drops of an incoming squall spat against the windscreen as Liberty navigated the narrow winding road that led down to the tiny beachside community where Ross lived.
Sheldon said something she couldn’t quite catch. Viv turned down the volume on The Wiggles and got a squeal of protest from Harry in the back. “Okay, okay.” She cranked “Nicky Nacky Nocky Noo” up again. “Tilly, can you stop kicking the driver’s seat, please?” The kicking continued. Glancing in the rearview mirror she saw her niece had her iPod on.
She could yell louder or she could put up with it. Exhausted, Viv put up with it.
Through a gap in the native bush, she caught her first glimpse of the rugged coastline and pulled into the lookout, where she idled the engine and gazed out over the sea.
Wind-honed land formations forged into the wild surf like the prows of battleships, extraordinarily beautiful. Even the sand had attitude, an uncompromising black. Long rolling dunes, lightly tufted with spinifex and rangy grasses, stretched away to the horizon.
“Why are we stopping?” Tilly complained. “I need to pee.”
“Okay,” said Viv, but delayed releasing the hand brake. If she got out, stood on the cliff’s edge and opened her arms, the wind might reshape her like the dunes into something new and clean.
She didn’t know how to make her peace with this.
Susan had been very kind.
Buoyed by his recovery, so were Johnny’s parents when Viv stopped by the hospital to make a personal apology.
It made her burden of guilt so much heavier.
Ross had to take over the kids until she could pull herself together. With Charlie in Christchurch there was no one else.
His house lay on a ridgeline above the beach, hidden from the road by a narrow unpaved driveway planted either side with a tangle of drought-hardy native shrubs. Elevated to catch the sun, the house was a modest split-level building with salt-silvered board and batten, and a triangulated roofline of blue corrugated iron.
Native bush fanned out from the hardwood decks, which had been built around mature nikau palms, some of which thrust through the deck itself like natural sun umbrellas—an unexpected touch of whimsy. And beyond, she saw jaw-dropping views of a rain-bleached sea.
The shower became a deluge as she unloaded the children. Lightning flashed across the sky.
The kids’ feet clattered on the decking as they bee-lined for the door. Tilly pounded, Harry hammered. Viv wiped damp palms on Merry’s brown poplin skirt. No one answered the door. Peering through the adjacent window she saw a monastically furnished living room with a cozy wood burner in the corner. “He isn’t home.”
Stupidly it hadn’t occurred to her to phone first, which was precisely why she needed to off-load the kids. She wasn’t thinking straight. She could make another terrible mistake.
Frustrated, Harry rattled the handle, while Tilly jiggled from one foot to the other. “I need to pee now.”
“Give me a minute.” Standing under the overhang, staring out at the rain, Viv gathered her scattered thoughts. There must be a public restroom at the beach. “Everyone back in the Subaru.” It was still pelting down as they left the restroom ten minutes later. They took shelter in the car where Viv let Harry stand in the driver’s seat playing with the steering wheel while she sat in the front passenger seat and considered their options.
Ross could be anywhere and he wasn’t answering his cell. There seemed nothing for it but to turn around and drive the forty-five minutes home.
All she wanted to do was give up. It took her a minute to realize that; despair was such a new sensation for her.
Tilly drooped quietly against the rear passenger door. She shook her head when Viv offered her a chicken sandwich. Her niece’s unhappiness brought Viv to her senses. She was all the parent these two had right now and here she was indulging in a meltdown instead of giving them what they needed.
She straightened in her seat. “Okay, who’s ready to go to the beach?”
Harry forgot about the indicator lights and scrambled over. “Iv.”
“But it’s raining,” Tilly protested.
“So? We all have extra clothes.” She’d expected to drop them at Ross’s so she’d packed them an overnight bag. And there were sweats for her in Merry’s sports kit. “C’mon, it’ll be fun”
“No, it won’t, I’m gonna stay in the car.”
“Suit yourself.”
Harry was already tugging frantically at the door handle. Viv opened it for him and he turned to hang his small legs over the abyss before dropping to the ground, blinking owlishly in the rain. She smiled. “Go, baby.”
With a grin, he toddled to a nearby dune and dropped to his haunches, picking up fistfuls of wet sand.
“He’ll get dirty,” Tilly warned.
“He’s allowed to,” said Viv. The rain hit her as she stepped out, not cold but nearly, the gusty wind forcing it down the nape of her neck. Didn’t matter. This was all about the kids. “Go ahead, Harry, knock yourself out. We’ll splash it off afterward.”
Tilly sat up. “You’re going in the sea with your clothes on?”
“Yep, since we don’t have swimsuits.” It was clear from the little girl’s face that she found the idea more outrageous than swimming naked.
Harry staggered over, propelled by a gust of wind, and with a chortle threw sand at Viv. It splattered her cheek, across her T-shirt. Tilly gasped.
Harry’s grin faded to apprehension. “Iv?”
She looked down at the T-shirt, one of her own, which could pass—just—as belonging to Merry. “I bet you didn’t mean to do that,” she said seriously.
“He did, too,” ratted his older sister.
Harry thought about it. “No?”
Viv kept a straight face. “Well, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt.” She picked the biggest wet lump off Marilyn Monroe’s beauty spot. “Like you’re going to give me the benefit of the doubt when I do this.”
Carefully, she tossed some wet sand in his direction and it plopped square on his round belly.
Harry looked at his T-shirt and then up at her with such utter astonishment that she didn’t have to feign this smile. “Uh-oh,” she prompted.
Tilly giggled, that giggle kids got when adults stopped pretending to be grown-ups.
Chuckling, Harry picked up another fistful and threw it at Viv. She replied in kind.
Tilly scrambled out of the car. “Can I play?”
“Sure, anywhere but faces.”
Tilly bent and scrabbled for sand, turned with a cunning expression. Splat. Viv struck first. “Now tell me I’m not fun,” she invited.
Harry squealed.
Splat. Tilly got her revenge.
“Run, Harry, run.” Grabbing his hand they broke into a toddler-paced trot down the beach. Splat on Harry’s bottom. Splat on Viv’s. Harry shrieked.
Their joy was balm to her wounded spirit.
Splat. Lacking the coordination to miss faces, Harry hit her right in the kisser. Spitting out a gritty mouthful, Viv grinned and returned to the battle.