Chapter Thirteen
Standing in the doorway, Viv stared bleary-eyed at the empty cell charger, then at Harry who was wandering around the living room, the dog at his heels and her phone pressed to his ear. His diaper hanging in a soggy lump between his skinny bow legs, he beamed at her. Delighted to see her, delighted with his new toy—all obviously right with his world.
It was the morning of the funeral and she’d overslept.
With a moan, she moved to rescue the cell and something crunched under her foot. She lifted it to see crushed cornflakes. Her eyes followed a splotchy trail of milk and cornflakes from the kitchen to the overflowing cereal bowl on the coffee table.
She’d cleaned the place spotless last night. Now the kitchen and living room looked as if there’d been a wild party. And the TV was blaring loud enough to wake the dead—sorry, Linda. And yet somehow, Viv had slept through it. Maybe the alarm had gone off, maybe it hadn’t. It was certainly switched off when she’d woken up and stared in disbelief at the time. 9:05.
“I got breakfast for me and Harry.” Tilly didn’t glance up from the TV where two cartoon Ninjas were balletically beating the crap out of each other. “I’m being helpful, like Uncle Ross said.” Eyes glued to the screen, she waved a dripping spoon in Harry’s general direction. “Here, Harry,” she cooed. Obediently the toddler trotted over, but Salsa and his little pink tongue got there first. Tilly laughed.
“Dog,” chortled Harry, and in his glee, threw the cell. It landed with a plop in the bowl.
With an exclamation, Viv fished it out and wiped it dry on Merry’s cotton pj’s. The battery light flickered and went out.
She tried to find a bright side. “Well, that’s all the crazy out of the way early.”
Tilly snuggled into the armchair with the remote. “I did good, didn’t I, Auntie Viv?”
“Call me Mum, Till, so you don’t forget when it’s important.”
“Mum,” said Tilly absently. She’d been captured by the Ninjas again.
Harry toddled over and wrapped his arms around Viv’s shins. “Iv,” he said.
In between getting everybody dressed, icing the cake in chocolate frosting, staging the house with flowers, and accepting a delivery from the caterers, Viv sang, “Mum-Mum-Mum” to her nephew to reindoctrinate him.
She tried to prepare her niece for the funeral. “It’s okay,” Tilly reassured her. “I have buried a guinea pig.”
Five minutes before Ross arrived, Viv finally found a few minutes to phone Merry and tell her to reroute messages to Ross’s cell. “How are you feeling…any improvement?”
“Definitely on the mend.” Viv took her word for it, she didn’t have time to go on Skype. “I talked to Charlie last night,” her twin added.
“Really?” Please, Charlie, don’t have brought up our argument yesterday.
“About anecdotes for the funeral…he was really offhand. I think he’s made up with Susan.”
“I’m sorry, Mere.” God, I’m so sorry. But if the guy couldn’t stand hearing a few home truths then her sister was better off without him.
“Yeah, well, you told me not to get my hopes up,” Merry said tiredly. “Let’s go over the chorister names again.”
“Barry the balding baritone. Cindy the frizzy-permed alto—”
“Cindy’s a soprano. Concentrate, Viv! If you mess this up—”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Of course you can pull this off,” Merry said unconvincingly. “It’s just there’s—”
“A lot at stake. I know.” Viv couldn’t keep the sharpness out of her tone. “You don’t have to repeat it. Ross’s SUV is pulling up. We need to go.”
“Good luck.”
“Shouldn’t that be break a leg?”
“I know you joke when you’re nervous but don’t, Viv, there’s too much at—” Merry caught herself. “Do what I do. Chew your nails.”
Except she’d cut them short yesterday. “Are you kidding, acrylic nails are ten dollars apiece.” Yuk, Yuk, Yuk. Oh, yuk.
She commandeered Ross’s cell as soon as he walked in and waited anxiously while he checked her appearance. A black Polo dress—Merry always chose clothes half a size too big because she didn’t like showing off her figure—with a matching plaited belt.
Viv had teamed it with one of Merry’s carry-all handbags, low black pumps, a fine gold chain and small gold hoop earrings. She’d pulled her hair into Merry’s customary ponytail and her only makeup was lip gloss and eye shadow. Merry wore blue, instead of the brown that suited their coloring.
In one way, at least, Viv figured she’d perfected Merry. Drawn, tired and drained of confidence.
“Perfect,” Ross approved, and tears sprang to her eyes. Encouragement had been in short supply. She blinked hard.
“Attila?” Ross touched their niece’s shoulder. “Go put your brother in the car seat, hey? And you can choose the music for the ride to the chapel.” Tilly loved being in charge of in-car entertainment
“You okay?” he said when they’d gone.
She resisted a sudden urge to lay her head against his broad shoulder. “I will be.” Viv fished the saints book out of Merry’s bag.
“You use that thing like crack.” Ross took it away from her. “We’re relying on preparedness, remember?”
“And I’m covering all the bases.” Grabbing it, she flicked through the pages. “Saint Jude’s our man. He looks after desperate situations and lost causes.”
Ross reconfiscated it. “Where’d this thing come from, anyway?”
“I dressed the production of The Sound of Music last year and the producer gave me a thank-you gift of crystal rosary beads. The saints guide came with it. I started reading it as a curiosity and now I don’t go anywhere without it.”
She made a grab for it and he held it out of her reach. “You can pull this off.”
“I’ve got melodies, posture tips and names all jumbled together in my head,” she admitted. “I don’t think I can keep everything straight.”
“You’ve done the work, the information will come when it’s needed.”
“Harry keeps calling me Iv.”
“Damn. I’d hoped it was a one-off.” He thought a minute. “Okay, it’s short for ‘give’ as in ‘gimme.’ Whenever he says it, hand him something.”
“Yes.” She felt a rush of relief. “That could work.”
“If things get too dicey, pretend you’re overcome and start crying.”
“Now that I can do.”
His mouth softened, Ross’s equivalent of a smile. He handed over the saints book. “And I’ve got your back.”
“Think you can resist the urge to put a knife in it?”
Ross shepherded her through the front door. “A British prime minister, Lord Melbourne, once said he wanted men who would support him when he was in the wrong. Today, I’m your guy.”
And tomorrow? Viv paused on the doorstep. “How’s Charlie doing this morning?” Obviously he hadn’t mentioned her outburst to Ross or he would have lectured her by now.
“Holding up. He’ll be glad when this is over.”
“Won’t we all.”
They walked toward the SUV. “Right about now he’s picking up Aunt Agatha. Who is…?”
“Linda’s older and only sibling from Wellington,” Viv said without thinking. “Short, straight gray hair, walks with a cane. Never married, two cats…Fifi and Flo. Merry—I—get on well with her. She and Linda had periodic feuds but were speaking prior to her death.”
He reached to open the passenger door. “As I said, you’re ready.”
She stopped him with a hand on his arm. “If it all turns to custard, I won’t implicate you in any way,” she said awkwardly.
“Failure’s not an option, Viv.”
Guess the reassurance part was over. If one more person told her what was riding on this… She inhaled deeply. “Not Viv,” she reminded him. “Meredith.”
That softening of his lips again. She was starting to look out for it.
“Meredith,” he repeated. In the car he swung around to look at the kids. “Attila, I want you to stare at this woman and say Mum ten times.”
“Mum, Mum, Mum, Mum…”
Harry clapped his hands. “Mummmm.”
“Good to go.” Ross started the engine and pop blared over the speakers.
“Uncle Ross, you only had dumb stuff,” said Tilly, “so I brought my Justin Bieber CD.”
“I was hoping for the battle theme from Apocalypse Now,” Viv murmured and Ross laughed, startling her.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, soldier boy?” she accused. “Impending danger, the adrenaline overload, relying on your wits.”
Ross blinked. “Certainly not.”
“Now who’s the liar?” Viv opened her bag, found her conducting notes and concentrated on key changes, entrances and cut-offs. Fifteen minutes later the SUV pulled into Puriri Cemetery’s sweeping gravel driveway.
Overhead its namesake evergreens butted massive heads, their glossy dark green canopies dotted with incongruous bursts of rose-pink flowers. Viv half expected to see Jane Austen’s Pemberley appear through the trees. Instead she found herself staring at a modern chapel, flanked on two sides by rows of cremation plaques. “If I don’t make it,” she murmured to Ross, “sprinkle my ashes at sea…this place is too regimented for me.”
“Meredith would love the neatness of it,” he reminded her. “Remember what we talked about last night. Soften your expression, don’t hold eye contact more than three seconds and lessen that hip sway when you walk.”
“You really do have an eye for detail, don’t you?” she marveled.
“Tell me about it,” he muttered cryptically.
Because she’d been so busy, Viv hadn’t reflected on Linda’s death but as she got out of the car and saw the mourners she had to swallow a lump in her throat. Poor Linda. And poor Charlie.
He stood somberly on the chapel steps, greeting people Viv recognized but hadn’t yet met. She could only imagine how he must feel. She shouldn’t have yelled at him yesterday. They were both doing their best under difficult circumstances.
Unclipping Harry from his car seat she pointed him in Charlie’s direction. “Go give Daddy a hug.”
Charlie’s expression eased as he caught sight of his son toddling toward him. He picked up the baby. Over the heads of the crowd he thanked Viv with an unsteady smile. Guiltily she turned to close the car door and caught Ross’s eye over the hood. For the first time she understood conflicted loyalties.
“I’m sorry,” she said, “for dragging you into this. I only wanted to help my sister.”
Without reply, he flanked her, positioning Tilly on her other side. Viv picked up her niece’s hand.
Showtime.
As they walked toward the small crowd, she saw ambivalence on some faces, embarrassment on others. She was the estranged wife, the loathed or sainted daughter-in-law, depending on people’s relationships with Linda. She caught malevolent stares from Linda’s bridge and golf partners, Marsha, Caroline and Bettina.
Obviously Linda had embellished the story of how Merry had cheated on her blameless boy. Viv lifted her chin, grateful Merry wasn’t here to endure this. Noticing their disapproval extended to Ross—of course, the wicked stepson—she squeezed his arm reassuringly. He looked down, amused. “I’m used to it,” he murmured. “But you’re not. Chin down, Meredith.”
She did as he asked, and immediately Charlie stepped forward to welcome her in a demonstration of public allegiance that deepened her guilt. It was easier to justify her actions when she’d thought he was an asshole.
Following his lead, other mourners came forward to commiserate. Some tried to coax the gory details of Linda’s death out of her but she deflected all questions. So, she noticed, did Ross. She guessed very few genuinely liked Linda, most were here for Charlie—workmates, squash partners, friends from church.
Only once through the meet and greet did she draw a memory blank, on a bald old man, craggy as an eagle. The dog collar helped. Pastor Fred.
“The choir is inside, waiting for you, my dear.” She tried to smile. “Now who’s looking after the children during the final hymn?”
“Ross,” she said. “Or Charlie.”
“Aren’t they both carrying out the coffin?”
She hadn’t thought about that. From the blank expression on Ross’s face, neither had he. Single, childless…why would they have factored in those last five minutes?
Viv hesitated. Tilly would be okay with virtual strangers, Harry wouldn’t.
“I’ll do it.” Viv heard the familiar voice behind her and froze. A masculine hand landed on her shoulder. Instinctively her gaze went to Ross for help, but stony-faced, he was glaring at her brother.
Viv cleared her throat, drawing his attention, and telegraphed an urgent message. He’ll know. Unlike Charlie, her brother wasn’t in a haze of grief. Unlike Charlie, who rarely saw Viv, her brother had had a lifetime to differentiate the twins.
Immediately Ross stepped to obscure her from her brother’s view as Dan moved past her to embrace his brother-in-law. “Charlie. I’m so sorry, mate.”
“Dan, I didn’t really expect any of Meredith’s family to come…given the separation.” He was obviously choked up.
“Dad would have been here, too,” Dan said, “but one of us had to stay behind for lambing. He sends his condolences.” Her brother turned around and Viv ducked farther behind Ross.
“And we need to talk later,” he added to Ross. “So, Mer—”
Viv steeled herself for the inevitable exposure.
“Uncle Dan!” Tilly stopped playing with some remote paternal cousin Viv couldn’t immediately place and raced over, Harry trotting behind. Viv spun to scoop him up. Her back was now to her brother.
“Hey, pumpkin,” Dan greeted his niece. “You’ve grown so big, give me a kiss…. Mere?” Puzzlement entered his tone. “No hug for your big brother?”
Keeping her head down, Viv passed Harry to Ross and buried her face in Dan’s shoulder. It had been two years. Why the hell hadn’t he told anyone he was coming? This was so like him. Always catching her doing what she wasn’t supposed—
He started to pull away and, panicking, Viv tightened her hold. Out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed Ross steering Charlie and Tilly toward another well-wisher.
“Mere? You okay?” In a low voice he murmured, “I didn’t expect you to take Linda’s death this hard.”
She pushed him, forcing him to take a step backward. Pushed again. If she could get him out of earshot. At three steps he balked.
Viv lifted her face.
* * *
“What the hell are you playing at?” Dan demanded as Viv dragged him down the side of the chapel.
Conscious they could be interrupted any minute, she gave him the abridged version. “All you have to do is pretend I’m Merry.”
“And Mere actually agreed to all this?”
Viv hesitated. “You can’t hold her accountable for her actions right now. She’s been so devastated by Charlie’s dating Susan. And she’s feverish, unwell.”
“So that’s a yes,” her brother said drily.
“This is my fault, Dan. You know I can talk her into anything.”
He looked at her with exasperated affection. “Jeez, Viv…I thought you’d grown out of this stuff.”
“So did I.” She gave a short laugh. “Coming home always throws me into regressive mode.”
“Is that why you rarely visit?”
“Listen, I suspect Merry’s underplaying this blood-infection thing,” Viv said, ignoring him, “so she can still be transferred to Auckland tomorrow.”
“I’ll visit on the way home to Beacon Bay, then phone with a full report.” The deviation would add an extra hour to his two-and-a-half-hour drive but was at least in the same direction. “So how is the switch back supposed to work?”
“Merry’s going to sell it to Charlie as a simpler bone break to explain a minimum time in hospital. Once the swelling goes down, they’ll put a closed cast on anyway. By the time Charlie returns from his three-day conference, she’ll be home and I’ll be gone. She intended asking Dad to come stay for a week. We didn’t factor in lambing season.”
“I’ll hire extra help.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “You do know that at some point Merry has to tell Charlie the truth, don’t you?”
“How can she?” Viv asked. “We haven’t just burned bridges, Dan. We’ve blown them up behind us.”
He shook his head. “However scared Merry is of making things worse, if she’s still chasing reconciliation with Charlie she has no choice. Without honesty, they’ve got nothing. No trust.”
“You’re wrong, Dan. This way no one gets hurt. And, anyway,” she added when her brother shook his head, “it’s nearly over. Merry will be home tomorrow and Charlie none the wiser. After that, it’s up to them.”
“You know you could have called me about this, Viv. I am on your side.”
She’d hurt him. “I know.” Lightly, Viv knuckled his cheek. “Why didn’t you tell anyone you were coming today? You nearly gave us all away.”
“All?” His gaze sharpened. “Wait a minute, Ross is in on this?”
“Yes,” said Ross calmly from behind them. “Meredith, the choir’s waiting for its conductor. Dan, you’re in charge of the baby.”
Charlie came around the corner carrying Harry. “What’s the problem? Pastor Fred’s hunting for you, Meredith. Ross, we ready?”
“Yeah, mate.” As Charlie hurried away, Ross looked at Dan through hostile eyes. “Whose side are you taking this time, Shep?”
Startled, Viv looked between the two men. Something was happening here. It wasn’t good.
Her brother’s jaw tightened. “Yours,” he said, “same as always.”
Ross snorted and the three followed Charlie.
For once Viv didn’t ask. She could hear the strains of the organ and was resisting the urge to run.
* * *
The chapel could hold over one hundred and fifty mourners but today only half that number filed in. From her position in front of the choir to the left of the altar, Viv decided it was still seventy-five too many. Nervously, she watched people take their seats, their first glance going to the mahogany coffin, bedecked with Tilly’s mismatched wreath of pink, orange and red blooms.
Charlie sat in the front row, flanked by Tilly and Ross. Tilly sat with hands piously pressed together, a hymnbook open in her lap and her attention a million miles away. Linda’s death hadn’t really hit home for her yet. Maybe it never would. Beside Ross, Dan sat with Harry on his knee. Their nephew had already commandeered his cell. The tension between Dan and Ross was palpable.
Sunlight blazed through the large plate window behind the altar, momentarily blinding Viv as she faced the choir. Fifteen choristers looked back expectantly, ten short of the normal choir, but a wonderful turnout, Pastor Fred had enthused, considering the short notice. In their white robes, they could be the twelve apostles waiting for her to lead them to the promised land. No, that was Moses—
Pastor Fred coughed. “When you’re ready, Meredith.” Heart beating a tattoo against her ribs, Viv nodded to the organist and lifted leaden arms and was amazed when they drew out the first soaring notes of “Amazing Grace.”
By the third line she knew the pace was off, the choir galloping ahead of the organist. “I-once-was-lost-but-now-am-found-Was-blind-but-now-I-seeeee.”
Over O-shaped mouths, their eyes wide, they looked to her for direction.
Viv started to sweat. She was hitting all the right beats with her hands, taking an exaggerated breath on the beat before any new part started. Of course! They’d matched their breathing to hers as she mimed the words. She dragged her panicked breathing back to normal and they hit the right tempo.
The second verse passed without mishap and some of the awful tension went out of her shoulders. After the third, euphoria started to build. “Through many dangers, toils and snares, I have already coooome…” Yee-ha, she was doing this!
The sound swelled and thundered off the walls, the choristers faces red with effort. “’Tis Grace that brought me safe thus far….” her exuberant gestures were encouraging crescendo—abruptly Viv reined herself in and the voices faded to a soulful poignancy “…And Grace will lead me…” she closed her eyes, her left hand drawing out the last note “…hooooomme.”
Flip the pancake. Palm down. Stop. In the silence, Viv bowed her head. Thank you, God.
* * *
“How’s Dad really coping since Mum left?” Viv asked. “He doesn’t give much away when I phone.” She and Dan had finally managed to snatch a couple of minutes alone in Meredith’s kitchen while she waited for the rented urn to boil for a second round of tea and coffee. Dan was leaving early so he could spend an hour with Meredith.
“Dad’s still shell-shocked,” Dan said.
Herman should have been launching his retirement on a three-month tour of South America and Europe with their mother. Instead they’d separated on the eve of Dan’s wedding and Pat had gone with girlfriends. Viv was torn between supporting her mother and disapproval that she’d abandoned Dad.
“Jo and I made him move back to the farm…he needs company right now.” Their parents had a town house in Beacon Bay while Dan had taken over the farmhouse—and the farm—a couple of months ago.
“You’re a good son.” Viv hugged him. When she and Merry were little Dan had been the shoe-buckle fastener, the bug catcher, the protector. This guy was to blame for her fix-it complex. He made it look so easy.
“And what about you?”
Her brother had been restless the whole time he’d been here. Twice Viv had seen him approach Ross, and twice seen Ross turn to talk to someone else. She stepped away to inspect him properly. Sun-streaked hair, gold-tipped eyelashes and a killer tan hinted at his new all-weather profession of farmer. Made the former lady-killer even more rugged and gorgeous. “How’s married life?”
His swift grin held a pervasive joy that caught her by surprise. Jo had been his lifelong friend and she’d assumed their match had been based on pragmatism rather than passion. Like Viv, her brother was a love atheist, now his expression held a born-again fervor that was a little unsettling.
“Yeah.” His grin grew sheepish. “It amazes me, too. I hope you’ll have time to come stay before you return to New York?”
“Three weeks…if I get the job I’m waiting to hear about.” Actually she should have heard two days ago, but Viv was still hopeful. “Otherwise I’ll be forced to go home early and campaign for business.”
The urn boiled and she poured water into the giant teapot, laid out clean cups on a tray. Tilly’s high-pitched laughter came from the lounge. Ross’s gravel baritone was distinguishable amidst the murmur of conversation. Dan’s somber gaze went to the door.
“What’s going on between you and Ross?” Viv asked abruptly.
“Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing.”
Viv laughed. “Why, because I made a pass at him eight years ago? He turned me down, remember?” She started pouring tea, the steam rising to scent the air with Daijeeling. “He’s hardly going to be interested now that I’m causing him so much trouble.”
“Uh-huh.” His blue gaze was like a laser. “Your eyes follow him, did you know that?”
Viv paused with the teapot and frowned. No, she didn’t. “Okay,” she admitted, filling the last cup. “Maybe the guy’s still on my bucket list.”
Dan frowned. “He had a girlfriend at the time of the ambush,” he said. “Terri arranged leave from her job to nurse him to health. The first thing he did when he was transferred to a New Zealand hospital was cut her loose.” He looked at her with troubled eyes. “Ross is one of my closest friends, Viv, but he’s obsessed with getting revenge for Lee and Steve. He’s forgotten what balance is. Keep a safe distance.”
“Well, at least you’re consistent,” said Ross from the doorway. “You bad-mouth me wherever you go.”