All Saints: Love and Intrigue in the Stunning New Zealand Wilderness (The New Zealand Soccer Referee Series Book 1) (9 page)

She made
it in twenty because she coerced poor Uncle Larry into dropping her off. Then
she sent him to buy pizza.

“She’s not really a home help,” I
complained, my fingers writhing in my lap. “What should I do?”

“Call the police?” Pam asked,
gripping my hand in hers.

“No!” My eyes widened until my
face hurt. “Then they’ll arrest me for killing Uncle Mark! They’ll think I hate
all old people.”

Pam made a dismissive sound with
her lips. “I don’t care about any of that. I’ve told Jordan for years to go
screw himself so I’m glad he’s found someone to help. Don’t give him a second
thought, Ursula. Stop running around after him; if he’s well enough to engage
in that kind of afternoon pastime then he doesn’t need you at his beck and
call.”

I nodded, unconvinced. “What if
she’s after his money?”

Pam snorted. “If she’s willing to
do that to get it, she’s welcome to it.”

I put my hand over my mouth.
“That would make her a prostitute.”

“Who cares?” Pam slapped my leg.
“He’s not your problem anymore.” Her eyes crinkled in the corners. “Before
Larry comes back, I want to know everything about this mystery man.”

My tears alarmed her and the
smirk dropped off her face with rapid speed. Her arms doubled for my mother’s
embrace and soothed me as if I was Alysha. “It’s ok,” she whispered. “He didn’t
hurt you, did he?”

I shook my head. “He was perfect;
everything seemed incredible.” I wiped my nose on my sleeve. “He came round
here after the game because he’d heard about Terry slapping me and I
overreacted. He wanted me to talk to the cops, but I didn’t want to and
panicked. I asked him to take me to his place and when he hesitated, I accused
him of being married and haven’t seen him since.” The tears coursed down my
face, taking the heavy foundation with it and Pam winced at the revealed cut
and bruising on my cheek.

“You haven’t been putting ice on
that,” she tutted and I sighed as the nurse in her overrode everything else.

“I’ve had other things on my
mind!”

Pam smirked. “I can imagine.
What’s he like?”

I thought of Teina’s easy smile
and the way his fingers stroked the hair back from my face. I spoke, mid-sigh.
“You remember that thing the vicar says about sex?” I asked, blowing my nose
into a tissue. “It’s like gluing two bits of corrugated cardboard together and
leaving them to dry. Then when you try to pull them apart, both get damaged.”

Pam looked at me with an odd
expression. “So, was it not good then?”

I leapt up with a groan of
exasperation. “It was brilliant, ok? All four times were absolutely amazing!
I’m not talking about the mechanics. I’m trying to tell you how I feel at the
thought of never seeing him again; like having my guts ripped out.”

Larry stood at the open front
door clutching two pizza boxes. His mouth hung open and he stared at me with
betrayal in his eyes. “You did it four times? Are you trying to make me feel
inadequate?”

Pam stood and took the pizza
boxes from his hands, patting him on the cheek with a gentle hand. “You’re all
quality, babe. Once is enough.”

Larry appeared mollified and
grabbed plates from the cupboard, laying them out on the counter. “Do we know
him?” he said and shot me a peculiar look. “How would he know what happened at the
game?”

I swallowed, not ready to give up
Teina’s identity yet. “He heard about it,” I lied.

Larry nodded, seeming to accept
my answer.

“We’ll eat here,” I said, pulling
up the two bar stools for my guests and standing on the other side, leaning
over my plate with my elbows on the counter.

“Stand up straight,” Pam rebuked
me. “You’ll give yourself indigestion.”

I resisted the irrational urge to
pout and stood up in obedience. Pam nudged Larry with her elbow as he snaffled
a huge bite of cheesy pizza into his mouth. “Ursula walked in on Jordan giving
the home help something a little extra,” she said, her tone so casual he
stopped chewing as though he’d misheard.

Realisation dawned on his face
and he covered his hand with his mouth and dropped the delectable slice back
onto his plate. “I feel sick now,” he announced, pushing his plate away.

“It didn’t do much for me,” I
sighed, looking for sympathy. “I need counselling.”

“Oh, shut up, you’re not five,”
Pam snorted. “What did you think they were doing? Playing scrabble?”

“You’re Mum’s sister! You should
be upset.” My indignation emerged in my tone and drew hurt from Aunty Pam’s
face.

“Yes, I am. I miss her every day
but the only good thing to come out of her marriage to that loser was you. I
don’t care if he wants to do every dirty chick in greater Auckland, Ursula. I
hope he catches something nasty and it drops off!”

“Pamela!” Larry’s warning hand
rested on his wife’s arm and Pam shook him off with a rough movement.

“Excuse me,” she grunted and
hopped off her stool, heading for the bathroom with a swish of her floral
skirt.

Larry looked at me with apology
in his eyes and I swallowed. “She doesn’t like Dad?” I whispered as though it
was a new concept. My faithful uncle’s face creased in amazement and he snorted
with laughter, hooting until actual tears ran from his eyes and the stitch made
him clutch at his side.

I shook my head in surprise, unable
to join in and astounded at how clueless I’d been at noticing the most
important things under my nose.

He stood
on the balcony of the club house, leaning with one elbow on the rail. A group
of teenage girls ogled his neat backside from a table inside the open doors,
giggling to one another behind their hands. Oblivious as always, Jack Saint
turned at the sound of my footsteps on the worn deck. “Hi,” I grunted, placing
both palms on the rail next to him and closing my fingers around the rimu. I
imagined our grandfathers hugging the wood and watching the final stages of a
close game.

“What’s up?” He leaned down and
nudged me with his shoulder, turning to get a better look at my grumpy visage.

“Nothing,” I lied, shielding my
eyes from the setting sun.

“Jack, Maddie fancies you,” one
of the teenagers called amidst much screeching and the sound of chairs scraping
on the floorboards. Jack wrinkled his nose and ignored them, just like he’d
done since we were kids.

“Your fan club doesn’t age,” I
grumbled and saw his lips lift in a smirk. It wasn’t a great surprise. With a
Māori mother and a Pākehā father, Jack Saint Senior’s children
looked like demi-gods with olive skin and black hair. Jack and his younger
brother Alan could pass for models although both avoided the limelight. Jack
became a police officer and Alan joined the army; each escaping the Saint
regime the only way they knew how.

“Pity,” Jack mused. “I’m no more
into jail bait than I was then.” He lifted his right arm to scratch his nose
and I saw the black cast covering his wrist and forearm.

“What happened?”

He winced. “Fell trying to
restrain a drunk teenage girl. Hit my bloody wrist on a low wall and gave
myself a green-stick fracture.”

“Ouch, sorry.” I grinned and
jerked my head backwards towards his entourage, who’d moved closer to
counteract my proximity to the object of their desire. “Hence the distaste for
giggling girlies.”

Jack nodded. “Pretty much all the
female population gets on my nerves at the moment.”

My heart sank and I stared at him
with wariness in my eyes. “Would you rather be on your own?” I glanced at the
sideline where my father waved his arms and pitched forward and back in his
wheelchair, wishing I’d stuck to my decision and stayed away.

“Present company not included,”
he said, his dark eyes raking my face. “You’ve never been like other girls,” he
mused. “You’re different.”

Nodding, I focussed on the game,
understanding his comment. Jack and I shared a complicated dynamic and always
would. He felt like my brother but at the same time, my soul mate. He sneaked
under my skin and I his, able to bless and wound each other in equal measure.
When he married a girl from my class at the age of seventeen, my heart
shattered into a million pieces and I’d eaten myself into a human marshmallow.
“How is Lacey?” I asked as the words followed on from my torturous thoughts.

Jack looked at me with a frown.
“No idea, Ula,” he replied, using his pet name for me.

I shook my head in confusion.
“Sorry, I don’t understand.”

He studied me for a moment as I
watched Uncle Terry scrape my father off the pitch and seat him back in his
chair. The referee approached in his bright yellow shirt and jabbed his finger
into Dad’s personal space. “What’s that about?”

“The ref called advantage and
Jordie disagreed,” Jack said, still boring a hole into my right cheek. “As
usual.”

I nodded, avoiding Jack’s gaze,
feeling as though I’d missed an important birthday and couldn’t worm my guilty
way out of trouble. I knew he’d sensed my discomfort when his hand snaked
around my shoulder and pulled me into his armpit. I exhaled and relaxed, his
familiar scent wafting over my jarred nerves. “It’s not like you’ve had nothing
of your own happening,” he said, his voice low. “Lacey left me, Ula. Happened a
couple of months ago.” A vein twitched in his left cheek as he spoke. “She’s
pregnant by some other guy.”

“I’m so sorry,” I breathed. “I
really am, Jack.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Me an all.” He
left his good arm around my shoulder, oblivious to the silent rage of the
teenagers and the myriad eyes watching from the club house.

Jack formed an unwitting
rearguard as we watched the All Saints second eleven win their first game of
the season. The referee kept control of the temperature which hiked in the last
half as the opposition tasted defeat and didn’t like it. A winger received a
red card and an early shower after going in for a dangerous tackle with his
studs up. The All Saints player wiped from the pitch with an ankle injury cried
tears of pain and anger as he sat on the grass next to Dad’s wheelchair with an
ice pack on his bare flesh. The mood turned nasty, not helped by my father’s
lusty voice as he incited a riot and by the time the final whistle came, the
opposition supporters left without daring to enter the club house for the after
match refreshments waiting for them.

“He’s being assessed.” Paul
Saint’s voice cut through my thoughts as I watched the opposition supporters
clear up their deckchairs and make their way to the car park.

“Pardon?” I left my body leaning
against Jack as I glanced sideways towards the voice. “Who is?”

“The ref.” Paulie eyed Jack’s
olive fingers curling a lock of my hair and furrowed his brow. “Over there
under the trees. There’s a group of them turned up for the second half.”

I looked to where his finger
pointed and saw a knot of males standing together on the furthest edge of the
grounds. To their left a man stood alone with a clip board and the referee and
his two assistants made a beeline for him, their flags flapping in the breeze.
I shrugged. “So what? The ref played it fair. I thought he was good.” I looked
up at Jack for confirmation but he kept his eyes directed at the knot of males
and I stared at the underside of his chin for a second before looking back at Paulie.
“Didn’t you?”

“He was ok,” my cousin replied,
agitated by Jack’s presence. Paulie leaned across me, his shoulder brushing my
temple as he spoke to Jack. “Yer dad’s looking for you,” he said, his eyes
hard.

“I’ve got eyes in my head,” Jack
replied, protecting my face with his outstretched hand. “Watch Ursula.”
Narrowing his eyes, Jack’s face adopted a hardness which I associated with his
work. He took a step back, pulling me with him before turning and brushing
Paulie’s chin with his shoulder as he moved me through the doors and into the
club house.

“What’s with all the macho
stuff?” I asked as Jack pushed me ahead of him past the bar and into the
corridor beyond. I glanced back and saw Paulie giving us acid stares from the
balcony.

“You don’t wanna know,” Jack
sighed and slipped his arm around my shoulder again. “Take me for a drink.”

“The bar’s back there,” I giggled
but he wouldn’t let me turn, propelling me onwards to the exit. I popped
through the front doors and onto the steps without looking and ran with a smack
into a hard chest. For a second it winded me and strong hands gripped my wrist
to stop me pitching down the concrete stairs to ground level.

“Sorry!” I gushed, my chest
hurting as I fought to catch my breath. I looked up into Teina Fox’s dark eyes
and felt my words abandon me. Four other men stood behind him on the stairs as
though queuing to collect an award and I gulped and recognised them as referees
I’d seen at other games. I shook Teina’s grip off my wrists and moved past the
knot of men, skipping down the stairs with a haste which promised greater
disaster. Jack nodded to Teina and followed me, catching up outside the
building.

“Wait up!” he said, striding
after me and catching hold of my hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” I snapped. “I’m fine.”

“Where d’ya wanna go?” Jack
asked, his eyes searching my face. He wrestled car keys from his front pocket,
struggling against the plaster cast and dangled them in front of my face. “You
can drive.”

I took the keys with a shrug and
headed towards the car park, peering in the windows of the downstairs hall as
we skirted the building. “You didn’t come to the wedding,” I stated, my tone
accusing and Jack held up his cast.

“Too busy getting plastered,” he
said with a smirk.

“Yeah, well I missed you.” My
tone sounded cross. If Jack had been there like he promised, I wouldn’t have
gone outside with Mark Lambie, met Teina or done something I might live to
regret. Still might live to regret. I bit my lip and tried to forget how much
fun we’d had and the ache it induced between my thighs which took until Tuesday
to heal. I groaned with exasperation. As soon as I felt repentant enough to
brave church, a dirty thought about Teina ruined it.

“What’s with you?” Jack pressed,
his beautiful face creased in concentration. “Something’s wrong.”

“Just get in the car!” I snatched
the keys and deactivated the central locking on his station wagon and he
grinned and clambered into the passenger side.

“Ursula.” Terry Saint’s voice
sent a shiver of fear down my spine which felt like icy water. I turned and
pushed my bum against the car boot as he approached me, his gait slow and wary.

“Touch me again and I’ll scream,”
I threatened, holding my hand out in front of me. “Jack’s in the car. I only
have to shout him.”

“Don’t be stupid!” he snapped. “I
won’t hurt ya. It was a spur of the moment thing and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean
for it to happen but the things you said about Pete; he’s dead, Ursula. Let it
go, please?”

I shrugged and backed around
Jack’s car, edging towards the wing nearest to the driver’s door. “The cops
haven’t come looking for me yet. I haven’t decided what to say.”

“Say nothing,” he growled,
keeping his voice low. “I’ve sorted out a car with Hemi down at the BMW garage.
You can pick it up tomorrow. Your dad gave me your account number and I’ve
given you enough to clear that loan. Don’t do anything stupid, girl and we’ll
call it quits.”

“You’ve what?” My frightened
brain struggled to take in his words. He’d paid up. The blackmail worked.

“You heard!” Terry snapped. “But
one wrong word, girl and I’ll break you. For good this time.” He whirled around
and disappeared, his heels clicking on the concrete as he rounded the building.
My heart raced in my chest and I found a wave of sickness. Another one.

In Jack’s car I wrestled with the
settings of the seat, mirrors and steering wheel while he laid with his head
back against the head rest. “You look like crap,” I remarked when I’d adapted
the car to my miniscule height. “More like a cup of tea and bed than going out
drinking.”

Jack rolled his head to face me,
one eye squinted closed. “You’re probably right. Alcohol and pain killers
aren’t a good idea, anyway.” He sighed. “I just didn’t want to go home to an
empty house.”

“You can stay at mine,” I
offered, feeling a flare of compassion in my chest for his plight. “I know what
loneliness is like.”

“I know you do,” he conceded,
facing forwards. “Sorry I didn’t realise until now.”

“Why would you?” I asked with a
sigh. “Everything in your garden was rosy; I thought it still was. My private
Hell was exactly that; mine.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t been there
for you. Pete dying coincided with my marriage falling apart and I got busy and
selfish. I’m sorry Ula.”

“It’s fine.” I started the engine
and released the handbrake. “Where to then?”