The Candidate (25 page)

Small talk with her friendly barista was definitely not on the cards so she snapped open a discarded copy of the newspaper and felt the wind rush out of her sails. There was a photo of someone she recognised: ‘NZSAS Soldier Killed in Action.’

She skimmed the text as her stomach lifted, twisted and tightened. ‘Nicholas Joseph Scott … killed late last year … no comment from the family at this time … one other NZSAS soldier wounded.’

‘Oh, shit!’ She looked at Nick’s smiling face and thought of the shutters that had slammed down over Mac’s eyes.

‘Bella? Ginny?’ Marco/Bruno handed her a coffee. ‘You alright?’

‘Not really.’ Taking her coffee, she walked as fast as she could towards the carpark.

Chapter 29

Jen answered the door eventually, but Ginny had knocked a few times, and pretty hard, before she did.

‘Ginny.’ Mac’s stepmother didn’t sound surprised despite the early hour. ‘Good morning.’

Hearing loud music pounding downstairs, Ginny figured she had her answer but asked all the same: ‘Is he here?’

Jen nodded, and stood aside. As Ginny made her way down the hallway, Andrew walked out from the kitchen, dressed for work, a copy of
The Herald
in his hand.

‘I take it you’ve seen this?’

Ginny nodded.

‘Well, he’s just back from a run, but I’m sorry to say it hasn’t improved his mood. Why don’t you come in and have a cup of tea? Let him cool down a bit.’

‘Just had a coffee thanks, Andrew.’ She paused at the top of the stairs. ‘But thank you.’

Jen walked over to her husband as Ginny headed downstairs. ‘He has to talk to someone, love, and she might have more luck than we’ve had.’

At the bottom of the stairs, Ginny hesitated only briefly. Following the music — it was up so loud she swore the walls were shaking — she walked towards the back of the house, turned the door handle and stepped into Mac’s room.

Thank God I’ve found him, was the first thing she thought. Thank God he hasn’t disappeared on me again.

He was lying on his bench press, drenched in sweat and lifting the weight in a steady, smooth action. She waited for him to see her.

As soon as he did, he pushed the weight up, held it there, and closed his eyes momentarily before gently placing the bar back in its cradle. He sat up and reached for the remote to silence the music.

He looked at her warily, wiping his face with a towel. ‘What are you doing here, Ginn?’

‘I saw the paper. I’m so sorry, Mac.’

He nodded and looked out through the sliding doors that made up one wall of the room.

She sat down opposite him and waited until he looked at her again. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

‘I didn’t know how.’

‘You can tell me anything, Mac. You should know that by now.’ Ginny placed a hand over his. ‘I’m really sorry. I know how much he meant to you.’

His eyes filled and he put his hands up, covering them. His shoulders hitched and fell as he let out a breath.

‘Come here, you big dick.’ Putting her arms around him, she pulled him in close. ‘You should have told me,’ she whispered into his hair, kissing the top of his head. And held him tight as the grief came up and swamped him.

‘What happened? The paper said it was months ago.’

‘It was. It … it was an ambush, I guess. Of sorts.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It happened quickly and was over very fast. After Nick went down, one of our guys got one of theirs. And, well, they shut up shop and that was that.’ He frowned. ‘I don’t know. There could have only been a couple of them. Snipers probably.’

‘And you?’

‘I was trying to help Nick. He was already dead by the time I got to him.’

She swallowed, and he could see how unprepared she was for this. ‘Why has it taken so long to come out?’ She said at last. ‘I mean usually you hear … read about it, or — you know — it’s on the news pretty quick.’

‘The op wasn’t over so they couldn’t release it, not until we were done in there.’ He stopped, not wanting to continue. ‘And we hoped we’d bring him home. That we’d find him. But …’

‘I don’t understand. What do you mean — that you’d “find him”?’

‘We left him there. After he was shot. We left him.’

She raised a hand to her mouth, shocked.

‘We didn’t have a choice. They had to get me out — they couldn’t lift us from where we were and I couldn’t walk. And we were sitting ducks. If the guys shooting at us had come back with mates, we would have all been goners. There were only four of us left and they couldn’t carry Nick’s body, and me.’ He dared himself to look at her. ‘There was nothing we could do for him so we left him there. They boys went back in, after. But he was gone.’

‘My God,’ Ginny breathed out. ‘But … that’s awful. Horrible.’

‘It isn’t unheard of; it happens. They know what it means, not being able to bring one of ours home.’

He thought of Nick’s wife, Philippa, seven months’ pregnant when he died, and the way she had crumbled and collapsed on the ground when he’d gone to see her. To pay his respects, to grieve. He tasted that bitter, ashy taste of guilt. It should’ve been me, he thought, not for the first time. Nick had everything, whereas all I have — he took in Ginny’s pale face — is half-arsed hope.

He cleared his throat. ‘The other guys got back in a few days ago. There’s a memorial service on base later today. Then it will be done.’

‘Would you like me to come with you?’

‘No — I can’t have you there.’

‘Is that some sort of regulation, Mac — or you just don’t want me there?’

‘I can’t have you there,’ he repeated, knowing he wasn’t answering her question. She looked away from him. ‘I’m sorry I disappeared on you,’ he said. ‘I know I promised I wouldn’t do that to you again.’

‘You didn’t disappear exactly. I found you easily enough.’

He nodded. ‘Can I come back to you, after today?’

‘Of course you can.’ She reached forward, very unsure, and put a hand to his face. He turned his head and kissed her palm and the gesture sent her back to the first time he’d done that. Ginny leant forward and hesitated, just short of his mouth. She felt his breath on her face. Real, warm, alive. And closed her eyes as he kissed her.

She left him her door keys. ‘Whatever time you finish, come to mine, okay?’

Then she said goodbye to Jen and Andrew, and went back to her office. She felt shell-shocked and queasy. She thought about what Mac had told her and realised again how little she knew of his life. He’d been play-acting these last few weeks. Playing at being a lawyer, at being her lover. The reality was vastly different. He was a soldier who inhabited a world she knew very little about, one she could hardly comprehend. And she didn’t know if she wanted to.

She thought about Nick’s wife, and her heart twisted. How could she have said goodbye each time? How could she have lived with the fear, the not knowing? How could she live with this? Philippa Scott must be made of pretty stern stuff. Because, thinking it through, Ginny didn’t think she could have done, or do, what Philippa had.

A look of relief crossed Ange’s face when Ginny walked back into the office just after eleven.

‘Where the hell have you been? You said you’d only be an hour.’

‘Sorry.’ Ginny offered nothing further.

‘You don’t look so good. Everything alright, boss?’

‘Sure. Just a rough night. Where are we at?’

Ange didn’t look convinced, but didn’t push it. ‘Daniel “smiley-boy” Baire has signed and returned his contract. You’ve got that meeting with your new client at one, and Fiona from the uni wants a run-down on the ad response and early search work.’ Ange looked up from her notes. ‘Have you even started the search stuff?’

‘No. Not at all. But I can do some now.’ Ginny moved into her office and sat at her desk, waiting for the images of desert and blood and grief to fade. Shine was her world, she realised. The clients, the candidates — the jobs she worked to fill. Turning to her computer, she dived in.

Robert called just as the morning slipped into afternoon.

‘I just wanted to thank you again, Ginny, for all the work you’ve put in. You have impressed me beyond measure.’

‘You’re welcome, Robert.’ She tried to inject some enthusiasm into her voice. It had been a bloody hard slog and she was happy to see the back of it. She thought briefly about her conversation with Mark the night before. Her notes — what there was of them — still sat on her coffee table upstairs. She didn’t have the energy to get into it now. Not after the morning she’d had. She’d sleep on it, and if it was still bugging her, she could always speak to Robert about it at a later date.

‘When does Daniel start?’

‘Next Monday. And, Ginny, I also wanted to talk to you about another role.’ She rubbed her forehead. Commercial suicide though it would be, she was tempted to tell him point-blank she’d never work for him again.

‘Yes, Robert. How can I help?’

‘We need some administrative support, to help Camilla out. Do you do that sort of thing?’

‘Of course.’ It should be easy enough but knowing what she now knew of Robert Kendrick he would probably want someone who could type 120 words per minute blindfolded, who had a Master’s degree in finance, and was fluent in Swahili. ‘When would you like me to pop over and talk it through?’

She made a time for the following week and hanging up, thought she’d probably take Ange along and let her handle it. Nothing like a baptism of fire to get her off to a good start.

Before she left for the day she called Detective Johnston.

‘I just wanted to let you know I spoke with Mac this morning. James, I mean. James MacNamara.’ She wasn’t sure of the protocol. It wasn’t every day the police asked her if she knew the whereabouts of a potential suspect in a vicious beating. But she thought she’d better play it safe.

‘Thanks, Miss Hayes, but we tracked him down through his father.’

‘So — everything’s sorted then?’ She despised herself for asking the question, but she had to know.

‘Yes, Miss Hayes. He’s in the clear.’

She breathed out a sigh of relief. ‘And Miles? Is he okay?’

‘Out of ICU, I think.’

She winced. He was a prick, but no one deserved that.

Ginny waited up for Mac. Ostensibly watching television, she was curled up on her couch in her PJs, trying to keep her eyes open and considering another cup of tea, when she heard the street door open and, seconds later, the door to her flat.

She looked over the back of the couch as he came in. ‘Hi.’

He walked towards her but stopped just short. He was in uniform and she found — as with the time at Ohakune — that she was struggling to take him in.

‘You’re still up,’ he said, and she nodded.

‘How did it go?’

‘Okay.’

‘Were you there,’ she struggled to use the lingo, ‘on base? The whole time?’

‘Yep. I’m going to take a shower. And then crash. You up for much longer?’

‘No — I’ll, um, come in soon.’ She didn’t know what to make of what was suddenly between them: this stilted conversation, and none of the ease that until now had typified their relationship.

She waited until he’d come out of the bathroom and closed the door to her room before moving off the couch. She walked quietly, not wanting to disturb him, and eased into the bathroom to do her teeth. It was still warm and steamy but it wasn’t hard to see the uniform he’d discarded on the floor. She studied it as she brushed, then picked it up and gave each item a good shake before folding them over her arm and carrying them into the kitchen.

She hung Mac’s uniform on a chair, pulling out the beret he’d stuffed in a pocket and placing it on the table. She went back for his boots and stood them up under his uniform. Looking at those pieces of him, she turned off the light and crept into her room.

When the dream woke him, sending him bolt upright sometime around three, she was sitting there with him almost before she was fully awake, one hand on his chest, the other on his back, calming him.

‘Lie down,’ she whispered, feeling the sudden clamminess of his skin and hammering of his heart under her palm. ‘It’s okay. Come on — lie down.’

When he did, she gently rolled on top of him, covering his face and neck with kisses, running her hands over him, trying to soothe him, but also, she realised, herself.

She made love to him slowly and carefully, trying to infuse him with some warmth and light — some peace perhaps. She felt her heart turn as he reached for her, breathing out her name as he buried his face in her hair, holding her tight and close against him.

She lay on him for some time afterwards. With her face against his neck, the steady beat of his pulse against her mouth lulled her towards sleep.

‘Ginny …’

‘Shhhh,’ she didn’t want to hear or say anything more. ‘Let’s just sleep. Okay? We can talk in the morning.’

He let her move off him and, turning on his side, took her hand as she curled around him and pulled it to his mouth. He kissed her fingers once before pressing her hand to his chest and holding it there.

‘I love you, Ginn. I don’t think I ever stopped, and I doubt I ever will.’

She was about to answer him, to tell him she felt the same, when something stopped her, blocking her words. She thought of his uniform. How when he’d walked in that night she’d hardly recognised him. And then she thought of Philippa. She thought of Nick and opened her eyes. What she felt was overridden by fear. She just couldn’t do it.

‘Ginny?’

She nodded but stayed silent. Bowing her head into his back she waited until he was asleep again, his breathing even and steady. Then she placed a single kiss between his shoulder blades.

‘I love you, too.’

When Ginny woke the next morning she was alone in bed. She got up quickly and slipped on her robe. Mac was standing in the kitchen, fully dressed, with a cup of coffee on the table in front of him.

‘Thanks for picking up after me.’

‘You’re welcome.’ She moved over to pour herself a coffee.

She saw him reach out to the flowers Daniel had given her, which stood on the kitchen table. He ran a lily petal between his fingers.

‘These are nice.’

‘Yes. Although slightly over the top. They’re from Daniel. He got the job. In the end.’ She took a sip and watched Mac closely, frowning as he shook his head. ‘He just wanted to say thanks.’

‘I thought you said nothing was going on.’

‘There isn’t.’

‘You sure about that, Ginn?’

She frowned harder, not liking the question, or his tone. ‘What are you trying to say?’

‘How would I know if you’re not getting ready to move on to the next one?’

‘Don’t do this, Mac. We obviously need to talk. But not now, okay?’

‘Why not, Ginny? Don’t like the hard stuff, do you?’