All Saints: Love and Intrigue in the Stunning New Zealand Wilderness (The New Zealand Soccer Referee Series Book 1) (17 page)

“That’s what you get for pulling
a tackle like that,” he said, his face coy and unreadable.

“Thank you so much for your
wonderful wisdom.” I injected enough sarcasm into my voice to make it sting and
then side stepped him, aiming for the door. Quicker than me, he moved to block
my exit.

“Your heart wasn’t it in,” he
said and his perception made me wince. “What happened?”

I shrugged. “I don’t want to play
anymore. Everything that’s happened with my family and the club has made it too
hard. This place, it sickens me.” I looked around at the dingy officials’ room,
at the lack of respect the club offered men and women who volunteered so All
Saints pitches could be filled with the game they loved and it brought it home
to me; the club and I were as done as my father and me.

“Referee,” he said as though it
made perfect sense.

I struggled with the bitter laugh
which erupted from my chest. “Yeah. That might just finish Jordan Saint off for
good. I should consider it.”

Teina cocked his head and knitted
his brow, studying me through sultry brown eyes. I stood in the tiny changing
room clutching my bag like an island swamped by storm water; going under with
painful slowness.

“Come here, Ms Saint,” he
whispered, holding his arms out towards me. I stared at the neat white shirt,
ironed as though pressed onto the muscular body and wanted to run into his arms
and bury my face in his strong chest and breathe him in. I knew what lurked
beneath his clothes and I ached to hide in this awful room with no windows and
recreate what last weekend brought, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t right.

My resistance caused him pain and
I read it in the dark brown eyes, regretting it with all my nerve endings. I
shook my head and ran a hand over my eyes, squeezing the bridge of my nose
between thumb and forefinger. “My life’s about to tip up,” I said, my voice
soft. “It’ll be toxic for anyone around me. You’re best out of it.”

I pushed past him with unchecked
roughness and left the room, closing the door behind me with a resounding
click. My tennis shoes tripped over bumps in the grass as I ran to the car park
by cutting across a scrubby lawn. The right lace came undone and almost legged
me up as I bolted and I reached my car more through luck than judgement,
cursing the gardener who neglected anything not classed as pitch and taking the
shoelace manufacturer’s name in vain as well.

My car fired up first time and I
sped from the ground, determined it would be my last time on the property. My
father’s fifty percent share in the club meant nothing to me and I worked to
swallow down the threatening bile at my betrayal of a revered family legacy. I
saw Teina’s dark shape in the doorway of the officials’ room and cut off any
emotional connection between us, determined to leave the soccer world and its
complications behind me.

I parked under the building and
went upstairs in the lift, standing in the corridor outside my apartment with a
peculiar sense of foreboding. I made no noise with the keys and pushed the door
open with soundless precision, listening for intruders. My heart pounded with
the realisation I’d abandoned the laptop next to the bed and not hidden it in
the safe, leaving Pete’s guilt in the open for all of New Zealand to gawp at. I
held my breath and sent up a silent plea for clemency, not expecting to receive
it. Jack’s shoes nestled next to my work sandals by the front door and I entered
with mixed feelings of relief and dismay. I crept along the hallway in bare
feet and startled him as he sat on my bed. The laptop balanced open on his knee
and he tapped keys with a look of frustration.

“Looking for something?” I asked,
my tone acerbic. “Is this your game now, Jack? Grabbing promotion by turning
over your family.”

“No!” He shook his tousled head
and hurt flitted across his eyes. “You lied. I thought you’d dumped this.”

“Yeah. You also thought I’d set
my father up as a murderer to get him back for marrying a floozy and that was
wrong too.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Jack laid
the laptop on the bed cover as though it was fragile and stood, his face
pained. “I believe you didn’t know your dad married May-Ling, Ula. I said a
stupid thing and I’m sorry.”

“Pete was gay.” I put the
sentence out in the air with a casualness that sounded jarring. I might have
said Pete liked ice cream or Pete hated cats with more expression. Still, it
left Jack gaping like a mullet.

“What? No way!” His handsome features
communicated his belief that I’d finally cracked and he needed to call the men
in white coats to carry me to the psychiatric ward. I doubted his loyalty would
stretch to visits there.

“Yeah.” My face remained calm and
I rose onto tip toes; the way I’d walked as a child before soccer boots and
stilettos. “Bent as a five bob note.”

Jack shook his head and gestured
towards the laptop. “What’s the password, Ula? I need to take this into work
and they’ll ask me.”

I laughed, a cruel, sardonic
sound, eerie without mirth. “I just told you my husband didn’t love me, didn’t
fancy me and used my body twice in a five-year marriage. I say ‘used’ because I
can’t claim either of us enjoyed the experience. And all you can say is,
‘What’s his password,’ so you can take his deepest, darkest secrets to the
police station and claim your booby prize.”

“Ula, don’t do this,” he said,
his eyes widening at the coldness in my eyes. “We need to sort this out and
quickly, before they come after you.”

“Go away, Jack,” I said with a
sigh, turning on my heel. “You make me sick.”

I left the front door of my
apartment open, figuring Jack would leave with the laptop soon, anyway.
Ignoring the lift, I sprang down the stairs, tempted to pitch myself over the
railing and end my miserable life once and for all. It was a momentary thought,
but enough to bring me to my senses as I pushed through the exit from the
stairwell and met my reflection in the front door glass with a look of horror.
A cold, hard woman stared back at me and I recognised my father in the angular
lines and lack of emotion in the eyes. “It finally happened,” I snapped. “You
became a Saint! Congratulations!”

The balmy
air outside met me like a wall of heat and took my breath away. My cornflower
blue car sat forgotten in the bowels of the apartment building as I began to
walk, only my driving licence and car keys in my possession. I wondered who
would miss me if I kept walking and never returned, unable to mention any
significant names. Aunty Pam’s face swam before me in my inner vision and I
pushed it away. She wasn’t her sister. She wasn’t my mother. And it was Karen
Lansdown-Saint who I really wanted. I needed her cool hands on my forehead and
gentle overtones of sympathy. I hated her too then because she’d left me and
stifled a sob with my hand as I smelled the estuary and homed in on it like a
beacon calling me.

I stepped off the curb without
looking; a tragedy waiting to happen on a weekday, but still risky on a Sunday
afternoon. The car screeched to a halt with centimetres to spare and I held my
breath and felt my chest lock.

“Ursula!” Teina’s biceps rippled
under his shirt as he shook me and a tear squeezed out of my left eye and
pitched down my cheek. I watched the concern on his face change to fear.
“What’s happened?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. She just
step’ out.” The tiny Asian man driving the big red Ferrari danced around in my
peripheral vision like a fly trying to get inside a candy shop. His accent
mangled the words and a bubble of hysterical laughter threatened to pop in my
gut. “I could have kilt you,” he said, his anger growing. “You need lock up. My
car worth more to repair than you!”

Teina turned towards him and
stood up straight, maintaining a one-handed grip on my arm. “Hey, buddy. Move
along or I’ll give you something to repair.”

“Hass-hole.” The little man
scuttled back to his throbbing engine and ground the gears in a hurried
getaway. His ruination of a simple cuss word made me splutter and thinking I
was about to launch into tears, Teina buried my face in his chest and hustled
me towards the car park at the side of my building. He kept one arm behind my
back and his large hand spread out across my cheek, covering my ear and mashing
my other cheek into his shirt. It occurred to me as we reached his car that the
destination might still be the mental hospital.

“I don’t want to go!” I snapped,
pushing at Teina with my hands and succeeding only in causing him to face me
head on. “You can’t lock me up.”

“What?” His face held confusion
mixed with amusement. “Last time I checked, being almost splattered by a
Ferrari wasn’t an offence.”

“I’m not mad,” I insisted,
realising by implication I’d made myself look exactly that.

Teina planted a kiss on my
forehead and squeezed my upper arms in his comforting grip. “Get in the damn
car, Ms Saint. I’m sorry it’s nothing flasher than a Ford but you’ll look
better inside than on the front as a mascot.”

I sighed as he bundled me into
the passenger seat and closed the door, all the fight gone out of me. My
muscles ached and the stud welts on my thigh throbbed like a strobe. “Feels
like a bloody knife wound,” I groaned, touching the heat around the raised blue
bruises and wincing. Teina raised his eyebrow at the undignified flash of thigh
and underwear and his lips moved into a quizzical line.

“You know what that feels like?”
he asked and I closed my eyes against my own stupidity.

“No. So what? I can imagine,
can’t I?” I heaved out a puff of exasperated air and he grinned, unfazed by my
bad attitude.

“You’re a shocker!” he laughed
and started the engine. “I don’t know why I bother with you.”

He pulled out onto the main road,
smirking at my reply of, “Well, why do you?”

Choosing to ignore it, he headed
south, onto the motorway, putting Auckland’s sprawling metropolis in his
rear-view mirror.

We didn’t speak for half an hour
while I alternately sulked and inspected my war wound. Teina stopped the car at
the Bombay services and filled up with gas. He got out to pay and then turned
the car around to park outside the cafe. “I need coffee,” he announced, opening
my door and holding out his hand.

I declined food but accepted the
coffee he bought with gratitude, sipping while he ate a steak and cheese pie
and watched me through a veil of dark eyelashes. “Do you know why it’s called
the Bombays?” he asked and I frowned at the odd question.

“No. It’s stupid,” I said,
maintaining a grumpy expression. I looked through the glass at the busy car
park and hid the fact I’d asked myself the same question hundreds of times as I
passed through the area, on a bus going to some remote soccer game.

“Do you wanna know?” he asked,
his eyes teasing. I did, but not enough to beg for it.

“Not bothered,” I answered and he
bit his lip and masked his amusement.

He clasped his ankles around my
foot under the table and moved his head until I couldn’t avoid his eyes any
longer. “Are you gonna sulk all afternoon or do I need to take you into the
bathroom and sort you out?”

My eyes widened and I looked
around the cafe in embarrassment, wondering if he meant the threat. Nobody
looked in our direction at his lewd suggestion and I relaxed. “Take me into the
bathroom,” I said and Teina looked surprised, scraping his chair back.

“Ok.”

“No!” I hissed and he laughed,
mischief in his eyes coupled with victory at having foiled my bluff.

“It’s nothing to do with India,”
he said, pulling his chair back under the table and scooting forward to reach
for my hands. “This area used to be called Williamson’s Clearing, but he
subdivided the land ready for a group of new settlers arriving on a ship called
The Bombay. They decided to call the new town Bombay.”

“Oh.” I frowned in
disappointment. “I thought it was more exciting than that.”

Teina smiled and blinked his long
lashes. He glanced upwards with a smile as the waitress collected his empty
plate and our cups and she smiled back. A flash of jealousy cast an ugly shadow
across my soul and I put my head down to avoid Teina’s eyes. His hands felt
warm on my fingers, massaging the rigid bones with gentle, sensuous strokes.
“Can we go to the bathroom and get it over with?” I asked, making my voice
sound dull and bored.

Far from being irritated, Teina
smiled with his eyes and shook his head. “I’ve got other plans for you, Ms
Saint.”

I looked up into his eyes and
felt the lurch in my gut as my heart invested a little bit more in this intriguing
male. His lips quirked upwards revealing a long scar buried in the stubble next
to his jawline and I resisted the urge to reach out and stroke it, wanting to
feel his cheek beneath my fingers. My lips parted and I watched as his eyes
flicked down to my mouth and then upwards, the tension heavy between us. “Come
on,” he said, his voice soft as he tugged me out of my seat. “We’ve a way to go
yet.”

I used the bathroom alone and
found Teina waiting by his car. The hand dryer wouldn’t work and I flapped my arms
to get the water off as I walked towards him, my dress sashaying around my
thighs. He leaned with his neat bum on the passenger door of his vehicle, arms
folded and eyes watching me. Perfect teeth nibbled his bottom lip and I felt
like an organ in a specimen jar. “Where are we going?” I asked, leaning next to
him and noticing the way his hair curled above his ears. It struck me as
endearing and I reached out a hand and stroked the soft locks.

“Somewhere nice,” he said,
smoothing his fingers along the underside of my forearm and narrowing sultry
eyes as I shivered in response.

“As long as it’s away from the
city,” I said with a sigh. “Maybe drop me somewhere and I’ll start again under
a different name.”

“That bad?” Teina asked, fixing
his arm around my shoulder. He kissed my temple and I snuggled into his armpit,
enjoying the sun on my neck and the soft scent of his aftershave drifting
around my head. “What happened on the pitch?” he asked, his voice tender and I
wondered if he cared or if professional curiosity drove his question.

I shrugged, dislodging his arm
and pulling on his hand to put it back. “Brian coerced me into playing but I’ve
got a lot going on at the moment. I didn’t want to play this season but then I
felt I had no choice. I haven’t trained so I’m not as fit as I need to be, he
put me in an unfamiliar position to fill a gap and I got lost. When I made that
tackle I saw something in myself I didn’t like. I won’t play again.”

“Become a referee.” Teina sounded
serious and I imagined my father’s horror as I ran out onto the pitch wearing a
ref’s shirt. It would serve him right.

“Maybe,” I mused. “Not right now
though. Staying out of prison is more important at the moment.”

I felt Teina’s body tense and my
heart quickened in fear. His body’s reaction told me he wouldn’t be visiting.
“It doesn’t matter.” I put my hand on the door handle and ignored the look of
dread on his face. “Are we going to this mystery place, or what?”

Teina turned off in Ngaruawahia
and took the back roads west to the coast. I smelled the sea even before we got
there, letting its scent blow in the open window and caress my face. We passed
through magnificent bush and narrow, winding roads until the small town of
Raglan opened before us like a flower. I laid back in the seat, stretched out
and relaxed in the different environment. The town looked sweet and bustled
with life, slower paced and less frantic than Auckland’s perpetual movement.

Teina parked near a church off the
beaten track and locked up his car. I felt a frisson of excitement as he held
out his hand and I watched as my tiny paw fitted into it, our fingers
interlocking. Happiness budded but the usual stab of fear squashed it,
reminding me to enjoy the moment because it wouldn’t last. Life would crowd in
and ruin any chance of extended pleasure. I squeezed Teina’s fingers and
decided to live moment by moment for a while. I could confess my sins to the
prison chaplain.