Don't Let Me Go (7 page)

This leads me to your little car, pet. I know in your last email you insisted you didn’t want anything for it, but we’ve talked to a dealer and he reckons you could get at least three grand. So please let us send you this sum. I know you’ve closed down your bank account here, but I’m sure you have a new one in NZ by now, and the transfer should be easy enough to make.

Jackie wants me to tell you that we were in Mulgrove village the other night, and thought while we were there that we’d drive up the hill to take a look at your old home – and what did we find but a building site. Whoever bought it is really going to town on fixing up the interior, but looks like they’re keeping the integrity of the old vicarage intact. Seemed funny that you weren’t there, but I’m sure you’re very happy to be where you are out of all this doom and gloom.

Don’t forget to keep me up to speed with your plans for a job. You said last time that you were ‘exploring various possibilities’ but didn’t say what they were. I know it’s going to be difficult for you to go back to working with kids, which is where I think your heart lies, but if you ever need a reference you know you can always come to yours truly for a dazzler!

OK, guess I’ve gone on long enough now. Just wanted to be in touch and let you know you’re not forgotten. Your old mates often ask about you, but don’t worry I still haven’t told anyone you’ve gone for good. I won’t do that until you give me the green light.

Say hi to your mum for us and a great big hug to you. Do send some photos if you have time, would love to see where you are.

Tommy and Jackie xxx

Closing the message down as if that might in some way quell the emotions that were tightening her chest, Charlotte sat back in her chair and took a breath. She couldn’t allow herself to long for Kesterly, or Mulgrove, or her old job, much less Tommy’s broad shoulders and words of wisdom. It was all in the past now, gone, over and soon to be forgotten. Anyway, even if she were able to go back, her home had been sold and Tommy was returning to his roots. Everything was changing, life was moving on and so must she. This ache of loneliness that seemed to be growing and growing wasn’t real; it was part of the shame, the guilt and fear that was making her want to go back to a time before it had all gone so horribly wrong.

Before her mother had come to find her.

Oh God, she was trying to blame her mother again. She had to stop, because what had happened was no more Anna’s fault than it was Chloe’s.

It was hers, all hers.

She was about to get up and make a fresh cup of tea when her eye was caught by another message that had arrived three days ago from . . . Her heart gave a jolt of shock. Anthony Goodman?

Surely it wasn’t the same Anthony Goodman. The one she knew had no reason to be in touch with her. They’d said their goodbyes on the phone the day of her departure and though, secretly, she’d wondered about him many times since, she’d never been under any illusion that anything could ever have happened between them. He was a lawyer, a QC in fact, with chambers in London and a lifestyle she could barely even imagine, never mind aspire to. She’d met him through his older sister, Maggie, less than six months ago, and she hadn’t forgotten how intimidated she’d felt by him at first with his stern, dark features and imposing air. It was only when he’d smiled that she’d realised there was a man with normal amounts of friendliness and humour behind the lawyerly mien. A man who’d caused her heart to flutter with dreams that didn’t belong there.

She couldn’t say he’d ever become a friend, exactly, because their worlds had been too far apart for that, both socially and geographically. Nevertheless, he hadn’t hesitated to help her when she’d been fighting for her job and reputation. Not that he’d represented her himself, as a criminal barrister that wasn’t his role, but he’d put her on to the best firm he knew, and had stayed in touch throughout the whole horrible affair.

Then, at the last, he’d called to wish her well in New Zealand – he’d even suggested coming to the airport to say goodbye. She’d told him not to, they were already running late and she hadn’t wanted to waste his time. It hadn’t been easy to tell the lie, but she’d forced the words out, because she’d had no choice. Had she hurt his feelings? Not nearly as much as she’d hurt her own.

Why was he emailing now, if it really was him?

Feeling an uneasy beat stalling her heart, she clicked to open the message and held her breath.

Dear Alex, I’m not sure if you’re still using this email address, but as it’s all I have for you I’m taking a chance. I hope you’re well and enjoying life Down Under and have gone some way towards recovering from the difficult time you had before leaving.

Maggie and I often talk of you and wonder if you’ll ever come back to England. Speaking personally I’d quite understand if you didn’t – it certainly isn’t the most inspiring place to be these days, and with the way things are going it’s difficult to generate much hope for the immediate future. Sorry for the pessimism, but this little island of ours really isn’t in a happy state.

It’s largely for this reason that I have decided to take a sabbatical with a view to making some changes in my life and career. I won’t bore you with details of that, I’ll simply say that I find myself needing to broaden my horizons in a way that might enrich my mind (and my soul) rather more fully than criminal law. I’m sure I won’t give up the law completely, but I’m going to take some time to explore other areas of it that might allow me to sleep a little easier at night.

Before embarking on this new phase I am intending to visit friends and family in Australia and New Zealand (Maggie and I have a cousin in Christchurch and a great-uncle in Melbourne), and I was rather hoping you might be up for a visit too.

Charlotte swallowed drily as the possibility of it started her head spinning.

I don’t have any flights booked yet, or any particular dates in mind, I simply thought I would be in touch now to say how very much I’d like to see you again.

I leave you in the hope that this reaches you, and that you will welcome an opportunity for us to meet at some point in the not too distant future,

Yours

Anthony

Feeling slightly unsteady, Charlotte put her tea mug down and dragged her hands over her face. What was she going to do? What should she say? The truth, that she wanted him to come more than anything? If only she could, but she knew already that she never would.

Feeling the need for some air, she took herself outside and inhaled deeply, once, twice, three or more times. Before she could stop it she found herself imagining how wonderful it would be to show him this bay, to introduce him to her family, to show him around Kerikeri and take him to Kauri Cliffs or right up to Cape Reinga to where the Pacific Ocean swirled and roared into the Tasman Sea. They could light a fire on the beach here in the cove and poach scallops or mussels; or dine in restaurants belonging to vineyards, or explore galleries exhibiting local art. Chloe could teach him some Maori – dancing and words – and show him how brave she was now in the way she rode Diesel with Danni, or allowed Bob to tow her and Craig around the bay on a tyre.

That was where the dream had to end, because of course Chloe would never teach him or show him anything.

‘Mummy? I’m behind you.’

Turning round, Charlotte broke into a smile as she saw Chloe’s tousled hair and sleepy face. ‘I was wondering,’ she answered, going to kneel in front of her, ‘when you, little sleepyhead, were ever going to wake up.’

Chloe yawned and rubbed a fist into one eye.

‘Breakfast?’ Charlotte suggested.

‘Eskimo pie,’ Chloe replied, wobbling on her bare feet as Charlotte turned her around to propel her back inside.

‘You can’t have ice cream for breakfast,’ Charlotte laughed.

Chloe grinned and gave a little jump. ‘Weet-bix,’ she cried. ‘And you can have Berry, Berry Nice.’

‘Actually, I’m not feeling all that hungry this morning . . .’

‘I can’t have Berry, Berry Nice, because I’m not old enough, am I?’

‘That’s right, muesli’s for grown-ups, now if you sit yourself up at the table . . .’

‘No, no, no,’ Chloe suddenly exclaimed, backing away.

Realising too late that she shouldn’t have left her laptop out, Charlotte stepped in quickly to move it out of the way. ‘It’s OK,’ she told Chloe firmly, ‘it’s Mummy’s computer and there’s . . . Chloe, come back, sweetheart. There’s nothing to be afraid of, I promise.’

‘Don’t like it,’ Chloe shouted from the bedroom.

‘I know you don’t,’ Charlotte said, going to her, ‘but lots of people have computers, including me . . .’

‘Don’t like it,’ Chloe insisted, climbing into Charlotte’s lap.

‘Ssh, there now, it was silly of me to have left it there. I’m sorry. I promise not to do it again.’

‘Not again,’ Chloe agreed, shaking her head. ‘Don’t like it.’

Kissing her gently, Charlotte pulled her into a more comforting embrace and carried her back to the table. Though Chloe didn’t always react this way to a computer, the fact that she was reacting at all was a timely reminder for Charlotte to take more care. ‘There you are, all gone now,’ she declared, putting Chloe down on a chair. ‘So are you ready for some Weet-bix?’

Chloe sniffed as she nodded. ‘And Boots,’ she reminded her.

‘Of course,’ and after tilting her sweet little face up to make sure she was smiling, Charlotte began preparing breakfast.

Anthony wasn’t sure she’d pick up his message, so probably the best thing to do now was delete it and let him think it hadn’t reached her.

Rick Reeves was a slight, wiry man who, until recently, had sported an unruly shock of dark, wavy hair. Now, it was closely cropped to his head in a way that made his arresting blue eyes and infectious smile seem all the more striking.

Though his success in the advertising world meant a great deal to him, Charlotte suspected that his family and Te Puna would always mean more. Not that there was a contest – his father had always been fully supportive of his career choice, and Hamish, Rick’s partner, completely understood why Rick would want to take off to the Bay of Islands any chance he got. Who wouldn’t when there was such a fabulous home to go to, and since Rick never let a client down, or failed to roll up his sleeves and burn the midnight oil along with the rest of the team when the pressure was on, Hamish never questioned his partner’s commitment.

However, Hamish did have other issues where Rick was concerned, and a fairly major one was threatening to come to a head, but since Rick still wasn’t ready to deal with it he’d done his usual trick of hopping on a plane to Kerikeri, which this weekend had been a bit like jumping out of the frying pan straight into the fire.

Katie was not happy with him, not happy at all. Nor was his father going to be when he found out that his commitment-phobe of a son had rejected the house on Opito Bay. Commitment-phobe. That was what Katie had called him and he’d had no defence, because in this instance she was right, he couldn’t make the kind of commitment that was wanted of him.

Now, as he wandered through the evening sunshine down the incline towards the beach in front of the bach and saw the way Charlotte’s face lit up when she spotted him, he felt his own spirits take a much-needed lift.

‘Hey, crazy lady,’ he smiled affectionately, as she came to the footbridge to greet him. ‘How’s tricks?’

Hugging him, she said, ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you today. How did the viewing go?’

He pulled a face, and since she’d been prepared for that sort of response, she took his hand and led him to the bach. ‘Chloe’s up at Shelley’s for the night,’ she told him, taking a cold Steinie from the fridge. ‘Here, you look as though you need it.’

His eyes twinkled. ‘Did I ever tell you you’re my favourite person in the universe?’

She scowled. ‘Don’t you try and work that famous Reeves charm on me,’ she warned. ‘I’m immune.’

Laughing, he touched his bottle to hers and went back outside to slump down at the table and stretch out his legs. ‘Look at this,’ he sighed, sweeping a hand towards the glistening blue bay, where the evening sky was turning a smoky orange and terns and shags were skimming the waves. ‘I mean, just look at it. I’ve grown up with it, I know every inch of it, yet I still don’t ever grow tired of it.’

‘Why would you when it’s paradise?’ she asked, pulling up a chair for herself.

He frowned thoughtfully. ‘It would be, if it weren’t for
people
, but then without them I guess it would be hell.’

‘Very philosophical. So are you going to tell me what happened this afternoon?’

‘No, you’re going to tell me about your day, starting with why you were looking so sad when I arrived.’

Her eyebrows went up. ‘Sad?’

‘It was coming off you in waves.’

Sighing, she said, ‘Not sad, exactly, more nostalgic. I checked my emails this morning and . . . Well, I guess I’m finding it harder to let go of the past than I expected.’

‘And you’re surprised by that?’

‘No, I suppose not, just disappointed. I thought it would get easier, but then I had a message from someone I . . .’ Her eyes went briefly to his. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘Well, it clearly does, so come on, out with it.’

‘No, honestly, it’s nothing.’

‘OK, so tell me, would you go back to Blighty, if you could?’

She didn’t need any time to think about it. ‘No, I’m certain I wouldn’t. It’s just that there’s all this . . . I don’t know, unfinished business, I guess.’

‘Can you find a way to finish it?’

‘That’s what I’m trying to do.’

‘And in the process it’s making you sad. So I’m guessing it’s either about your sister, Gabby, or maybe it’s a . . . man?’

She smiled wryly. ‘I’m not sure I’m comfortable with the way you read me so easily,’ she chided.

He looked amazed. ‘Believe me, there’s nothing easy about it. In fact, I’m putting you down as the
Finnegans Wake
of the female world.’