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‘Look, I’ll take leave and go with you. I’ve never been down South, either.’

‘And leave Robbie? No. I appreciate your offer, but this is something I must do alone. A sort of goodbye present to my mother. Well, I really don’t know why I’m going, certainly not to drag up scandal from years back, but who knows what I’ll learn.’

She stood up and lifted down the wedding dress. She couldn’t mutilate it. And she wasn’t going to tell Barbie about the beautiful pressed flower in her mother’s bible, nor the photograph wrapped in tissue-paper. She had a feeling that it was her real father and she just wanted to see him, if it was possible. It was a crazy idea, but she had nothing else to do. She was sure he was a nice man, and she had no intention of causing him any embarrassment. He would more than likely be away from there years ago, but it was something to do.

‘I’m glad you’re taking your wedding dress,’ Barbie said. ‘You paid for it, it’s yours, and I hope that when you find another man you’ll invite Robbie and me to the wedding.’

‘Have wedding dress, will travel?’ Serenity scoffed. ‘No, I am not interested in matrimony. Imagine me ever having the nerve to put an engagement in the paper only to find Harvey James appearing out of the blue to inform the future in-laws of my background or lack of it. Only a fool makes the same mistake twice. My mother made a great success of living in no man’s land most of her life. I'll do the same.’

‘Oh. Serenity, don't think like that. Any man would be proud to have you for a wife. Don’t let that awful man ruin your life.’

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, but from my short and rather limited experience of men, I’m not impressed by what they have to offer.’

‘Look at Robbie,’ Barbie cried. 'He’s wonderful.’

Serenity grinned. ‘There’s always one exception to the rule.’

‘How can you still smile?’

‘It’s better than crying, believe me. I’ve tried both. Now I’ve got to be on my way. Are you coming down to the car? You can carry this darned dress. I'd give it to you, but it wouldn’t fit.’

Barbie giggled, ‘I'm built for comfort not for speed, Robbie says.’

As she took the gown she shrieked. ‘You’re still wearing John’s ring!’

Serenity held out her hand and admired the beautiful ring, turning it so that the magnificent sapphire and tiny diamonds which surrounded it flashed and glowed in the sunlight. ‘Quite a rock, isn’t it? It cost so much I was frightened to wear it at first. About wearing it, well, John rang from Auckland last night, and he was in such a state with remorse and humiliation at his poor showing, I was sorry for him. He was almost suicidal, and begged me to keep the ring. To calm him down, I said I would for a while. Then he asked would I continue to wear it for at least six months.’

‘The nerve . . .’ Barbie said angrily.

‘Yes, it was rather. He said that all he needed was time and that his mother had blackmailed him into leaving. You know he works for his father and accountants’ positions are scarce as hen’s teeth, so he said that when he comes back he’ll try and get another place, with another firm, and then we could leave this town and be married.’

‘He never will, Serenity. Don’t trust him. He’s absolutely spineless.’

‘I know that, but I couldn’t tell him, could I? I was scared he might go right off the deep end, as he sounded quite frantic. So I said I’d wear it, and take good care of it for him, but marriage was out for me. It seemed to make him happy, and in six months I’ll register it back to him—he’ll have got over it by then.’

‘And you?’

‘I think so.’

‘You’re a wonderful person, Serenity.’

‘I am not,’ Serenity replied smartly. ‘I have been functioning by remote control most of this week. I hated going back on the wards with everyone knowing that I’d been flunked in my wedding finals. It was like being publicly flogged. I’m still a bit numb, but I have been doing a bit of research, and I’m not a nice person at all. My pride has taken a beating, not my heart, and that’s shocking. I can wear John’s ring because my love was not very deep, it was more a friendship thing. He is badly hurt because he really loved me.’

‘He deserves to be hurt,’ Barbie returned savagely.

‘No, he does not. I remember when I decided to accept him: he had asked me many times but I didn’t feel right about it, then one night I heard Mrs Bellamy on the phone, discussing me with one of her buddies, and she knew I could hear her. She described me as a nice enough girl, a bit nondescript, with no background, no breeding, no money, and mentioned that my mother was only the Doctor’s hired help.’

‘Oh no!’

‘Oh, yes, and what does that make me? I did it to spite her. I knew my mother was worth ten of her, and I thought it would do her the world of good to have to accept me as Mrs Bellamy junior!’

‘It would have done John the world of good, too. It might have made a man of him.’

‘Not the way you think,’ Serenity said. ‘I did love him, but I was sorry for him. Sorry for the way she dominated him, and bullied him. He could never call his soul his own. She made his dentist appointments, told him when to shave, chose his clothes; she never let him grow up, and he really was a darling. I would never have pushed him round. I would have helped him to develop his self-confidence and let him be his own person. We could have been happy, but I have to admit that it would have been most satisfying to see him grow strong enough to tell her where to get off. But she won and I lost.’

‘No,’ Barbie said as they walked to the lift. ‘John missed his only chance. I might forgive him, I might even be kind to him when he gets back—he’ll need friends— because nobody wilt admire him for what he did to you that night. What a coward!’

They walked out in the sunshine to the car park. ‘Throw that wretched dress in the back seat,’ Serenity grimaced. ‘I don’t know what I’ll do with it. And I’d be really grateful if you would be kind to John. He can’t help himself, because his mother has so smothered him. Poor John.’

‘Poor John,’ Barbie echoed. ‘He could have had you. But even though you’re hurting now, I'm glad you didn’t marry him. Robbie and I always knew he wasn’t right for you; he was charming, but so weak. You need a strong man to love you, Serenity. You shouldn’t agree to marry anyone because you feel sorry for them. That could have been what happened to your mother—you’re very like her—then when she met someone she could love deeply, she blew the whole bit. At least you’ve been saved from that.’

Serenity opened the car door. ‘You could be right about Mother, but 1 doubt it. She was always on about the sanctity of marriage and that loyalty was the greatest thing you could offer your husband. She had very old-fashioned ideas about marriage, she held to the old values, that’s why I can’t accept that she betrayed her husband. I know that if I had married John, I'd have been faithful to him for my whole life, and as you say, I'm very like her. Something very weird happened but as I’m never likely to find out, then the wise thing to do is not dwell on it. Right, I’m off. And thanks for your support, and your love.’

Barbie grabbed her and hugged her, tears streaming down her face. ‘Oh, Serenity, I hate letting you go. You will write? You will be my bridesmaid?’

‘That’s a promise.’ Serenity kissed her, and got into the car. She must not cry. She had loved this town. She had loved John in spite of what she had said to Barbie. Inside she was grieving for him, the way she still grieved for her mother and she was leaving them both behind. And to be losing Barbie too . . . and Robbie. She would have no one to call her own.

‘Be happy, Serenity.’ Barbie put her hand through the open window.

‘Don’t go dreaming of a big strong handsome husband for me, Barbie. I don’t like handsome men, too conceited, and those strong silent types put me right off altogether. Goodbye, love.’

She moved the car into gear and pressed the accelerator. She was proud that she hadn’t cried. She hadn't cried at the cemetery either—some things were too deep for tears. She felt numb and without emotion.

She and her mother were two of a kind—both had messed up their lives in the early stages. Well, her mother had pulled out of it and made something beautiful of her life. Serenity would do the same. But her mother had had a baby to love, and she had nothing to help her start building again. And her mother had had real faith in God, that everything worked together for good, and Serenity didn’t even have that to help her. She would just pattern herself on her mother’s life and maybe some day it would amount to something. Her mother had lived for others, never wanting much for herself. Perhaps that was the answer.

She put her foot down harder and the car surged forward, heading for Wellington and the ferry. She wondered what the compulsion was to go to the place where her mother was born, and why the urgency to get there. Was it some sort of pilgrimage, that once completed would set her free to start again? Serenity really hoped so. She didn’t want to live in this limbo-land of nothingness for too long, she might atrophy, waste away and become seared.

On the third day, Serenity rose early from another sleepless night. She should have taken those sleeping pills Robbie had prescribed for her, but she would tonight. It had been late when she drove into the tiny township, and she had been glad to have a meal and book a room at the one hotel. She walked out in the early morning air and felt refreshed by the cool wind which swept down from the bush-clad hills, bringing the tangy smell of bush with it. There was only a butcher’s shop and general store and a few houses that she could see, and the village was perched on the edge of a mighty bluff from which she could glimpse the river glinting through wisps of fog. She had her breakfast and paid her hotel bill, threw her overnight bag in the boot, and got behind the driver's wheel.

She really should have packed the wedding dress in a case. It annoyed her every time she saw it, but it would have taken too much effort to fold it properly. She seemed to have no energy at all, except to drive, and even that wasn’t a pleasure. She had not even been aware of the scenery, just miles and miles of native bush, deep gorges, and wild rivers. And now she was heading further inland. What would she do when she got there? Just drive past?. . . or make some excuse and go into the Station, perhaps pretend she was out of petrol? She would think about that later.

The road was winding and narrow, taking Serenity past isolated farms, then native bush again; beautiful as the sun filtered down through the thick leaves and the moss glowed like emerald velvet on the heavy limbs and trunks of the trees.

Heavy morning mist blocked most of her view of the high alps, but she knew they were there. All the way down the South Island they had been on her left-hand side, magnificent and dominating, and now she was driving directly towards them. She was so very tired, and she knew it was foolish to keep driving, but there seemed to be very little traffic on the road. It bothered her, this compulsion to keep driving. The patches of sharp brilliant sunlight, alternating with thin bands of mist, made driving dangerous.

After an hour’s driving she left the tar-seal behind and the road wound steeply down to a small bridge, then corkscrewed its way tortuously up another steep grade. The mist was thicker now and Serenity slowed accordingly, straining her eyes to follow the narrow ribbon of road. For a moment the mist cleared. As she put her foot down again she realised she was travelling downhill and far too fast for comfort. Then around the corner only yards from her raced a beautiful deer, bounding and frolicking.

Serenity swung the wheel wide to avoid it, and her wheels spun in the gravel as she skidded violently, barely managing to control the car. She straightened out with a breath of relief and drove round the corner, into a sea of sheep. She stared for one horrid second unable to respond, and the last thing she saw was a man almost over the bonnet of her car as she wrenched the wheel violently and knew she was off the road and somersaulting end over end through trees and fern. She had killed him. She knew it, and Serenity hoped that she would die too. She felt herself free of the car, flying through the air and then . . . nothing.

Serenity opened her eyes slowly then closed them for a long time. The lids seemed so heavy but she tried again, and stared, straight into the face of a man who was gazing at her with such compassion and concern that she knew he wasn’t real. He had the kindest face she had ever seen. Perhaps he was an angel come to collect her. She turned her head slightly and knew it must be paradise. She was lying on a soft grassy bank beside a lovely lake and by the edge of the water stood a small deer with a red-jewelled collar, its ears pricked forward, watching her with enormous eyes, and by its feet lay two dogs. Dogs and deer did not play together, not on earth they didn’t. Then the mist in the centre of the lake swirled and lifted, rolling in threads and spirals into the sunlight, and she looked right across the lake and beyond to the most glorious valley she had ever seen.

The luxuriant grass-clad slopes rose gently upwards towards dark purple bush-clad hills, and higher yet to snow-clad peaks. At the edge of the bush on a plateau surrounded by a sheltering of trees was a white homestead shining pure white in the morning sun, and the windows shone pure gold.

Serenity turned back to examine the man who knelt in front of her, his warm hazel eyes watching her. The odd feeling of weightlessness took over again as if she was floating above the earth. She had seen him before, and as the sun struck sharply on the strong planes of his face, she remembered the man in front of her car. So she had killed him, and he was here waiting with her in the wonderful place.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kill you.’

He smiled and deep smile lines grooved each side of his cheeks.

‘You missed, but it was a fairly determined effort.’ His voice was deep and pleasant.

Carefully she put out her hand and touched his tanned face, feeling it firm and hard under her fingers. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Absolutely. Although I hope heaven looks a bit like this. Now, how do you feel?’

‘I fell beautiful, woozy and warm and . . . nothing.’