Taking the Plunge Page 3

  Her thoughts returned to Evan and as she washed herself, lathering up with citrus-scented bath gel, her fingers lingered, a delicious tingle travelling up her spine. When she turned off the water and stepped out of the shower a few minutes later, she had something else to feel guilty about.

  She dried off and wrapped a towel around herself, then crossed the hallway into her bedroom to find Corbin drawing on her white duvet with red lipstick. “Corbin!” she screamed.

  Corbin jerked and spun round, eyes flashing wide.

  She clapped her hands to her face, dragging them down her cheeks. “What are you doing?”

  “Cayon,” he said, holding up the tube of lipstick.

  Kate snatched it from his hands. “It’s not crayon, it’s lipstick! And it’s Mummy’s, not yours. Why are you in Mummy’s room? You know you’re not allowed in here.”

  Corbin pointed at the oily red scribble. “Elmo!”

  “Elmo?”

  He nodded, beaming up at her, his face streaked with lipstick.

  Kate sighed. “Oh, Corbin, what am I going to do with you?” When he didn’t offer a suggestion, she noted the time on her watch and said, “We’d better get you cleaned up or you’ll be late for daycare.”

  “Daycare?”

  “Uh-huh.” She took his hand, leading him into the bathroom. “It’s Monday, hun. You always have daycare on Mondays.”

  “No daycare,” said Corbin, shaking his head.

  She took a fresh washcloth from the ladder shelf and soaked it. “Yes daycare,” she said, washing his face and hands as he squirmed and grizzled. She rinsed the cloth and Corbin took the opportunity to stomp his feet, scowling at her. “No daycare,” he repeated, louder this time.

  She dabbed at his face, scrubbing the last of the lipstick stains from his cheeks. “You have to go to daycare, darling. I’m going to Queenstown to do the shopping.” She hated taking Corbin with her — he invariably got bored and would then spend the whole time complaining, removing any chance for enjoyment she might have had.

  “No!” Corbin screeched, then punched her in the groin.

  She doubled over, clutching her groin with her left hand, lashing out at Corbin with her right, smacking his hand away. “God, Corbin!” she screamed. “How many times do I have to tell you? No punching!”

  Corbin burst into tears. She dragged him into his bedroom and hauled him onto the change table, snapping the domes on his onesie to remove it. “Why do you have to be so rough?” And why do you have to be just the right height to hit me in the vagina? “You really hurt Mummy.”

  In reply, Corbin’s crying increased in volume.

  She checked his nappy, decided it was dry enough and dressed him — no easy feat, given his resistance. Finally, she managed to get his shoes on over flailing feet, checked his daycare bag for spare clothes and nappies, then dragged him into her room. After the lipstick incident, she wanted to keep an eye on him, so let him writhe and scream on the floor while she dressed. With any luck, he’d tire himself out enough that she wouldn’t have to fight to get him in the car.

  Once dressed, she stood at the mirror to appraise herself. Blue jeans, brown leather boots, a beige merino jumper over a long-sleeved top. She leaned closer to the mirror. There were bags under her eyes, but that wasn’t unusual — there’d been bags under her eyes since the day she gave birth.

  Corbin had stopped thrashing, his wailing reduced to an intermittent sob. She applied eyeliner and mascara, then turned to him. “Feel better after your tantrum?”

  He grunted and rolled onto his side.

  “Silly boy.” Looking back at her reflection, she frowned, feeling as though it was missing something. She found a red beret in the walk-in wardrobe, placed it on her head at a jaunty angle, then smiled at herself. “That’s better.”

  Satisfied, she reached down for Corbin, who allowed himself to be picked up and nuzzled into her. Whistling the beret’s accompanying tune, she gathered their bags. “I think that’s everything. Ready to go, bub?”

  Corbin shook his head and burrowed deeper into her shoulder.

  “Oh, come on. You love daycare.”

  “Don’t,” came the muffled reply.

  She sighed and walked down the hall towards the double garage. The hall widened at the end, forming a small cloak-room. There was an umbrella stand in one corner, a wooden side-table with a glass bowl for her car-keys on one side, hooks on the wall for coats and jackets and a shoe-rack beneath them. She grabbed her jacket and scarf and placed Corbin, quiet and compliant now, into his car-seat. Moving to the driver’s side, she saw that her door was ajar. That’s funny. I swear I shut that yester…

  Her stomach sank as she saw the tell-tale toy car on her seat. “Corbin, you haven’t, have you?”

  A turn of the key in the ignition confirmed her suspicions. The starter coughed once, then greeted her with tired clicks, the battery dead.

  FOUR

  Turning left into Mall Street, Evan let gravity do the work, coasting down the slope on his skateboard, wheels rumbling over the concrete pavers. It was a perfect winter’s day — crisp and clear and still. In the distance he could see the old steamship, the Earnslaw, ploughing across the lake, its hull shining white in the morning sun, in stark contrast to the plume of black smoke spewing from its chimney.

  Yumiko had been asleep when he’d gone to bed (or at least was pretending), and she’d left for work by the time he’d woken, sleeping in since he had the day off. Although he felt refreshed, his mind clear of the drug-induced fuzz from the previous night, he had no more idea of how he was going to fix things with her than he’d had yesterday. He’d hoped skateboarding might help — get the blood flowing to his brain, give him some clarity — but so far no solutions had presented themselves.

  Mall Street was pedestrian only. A few scattered shoppers walked beneath the eaves of the buildings on either side but the exposed centre of the mall was currently empty of people, and he took the opportunity to put the landscaping to good use. He weaved around a planter box and ollied onto a wooden bench, sliding along its length and dropping off the other side before continuing his noisy journey down the mall.

  He heard a shout from behind and looked over his shoulder but couldn’t see who’d made it. He turned back just as a woman stepped into his path, her attention directed at her cellphone. He yelled and tried to swerve but it was too late. He careened into her, knocking her over a row of shrubs protruding from another planter box. He bounced off her and collapsed to the cobbles, his skateboard hurtling down the street. Groaning, he looked up to see a pair of brown leather boots pointing up over the topmost leaves of the shrubbery.

  “Watch where you’re going, you bloody moron!”

  “Me? You’re the one who was glued to your cellphone. You didn’t even look up.”

  “I was sending an important text. I wasn’t expecting to be mowed down by a rogue skateboarder.”

  Evan grunted and sat up, inspecting his hands. His palms were grazed, spotted with tiny drops of blood, but otherwise he was unscathed. There was a rustle of leaves and he turned to see one of the woman’s boots skipping over the square-cropped top of the shrubbery, like a marionette in a puppet theatre. The other boot twisted back and forth for a moment, quivered, and then slumped, as dead as the cow it was made from.

  “Umm,” said the woman, “do you think you could help me here? I seem to be stuck.”

  “Sure.” There was something familiar about the woman’s voice. He stood and dusted himself off, then moved towards her. “Look, I’m sorry I — oh!”

  The planter box was one of four, forming a small rectangle in the middle of the mall. Kate lay flat on her back in the centre of it, the angle of her beret jauntier than ever, the contents of her handbag strewn around her head like a halo. Her eyes flashed wide. “Evan!”

  “Whoa, Kate, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “Yes. I got lucky with my landing.” Protruding from beneath her back were the edges of
a large plastic carry-bag. “I just bought a new duvet. At least I know it’s soft.”

  Evan stepped around the planter box and reached for her hand. She waved him away.

  “My foot first.”

  On closer inspection, he saw that her left boot was snagged on a twig. He snapped the twig, freeing her boot, and she gingerly pulled her legs in and rolled onto her side. Evan took her hand and pulled her to her feet.

  The sound of footsteps alerted them to a pale young man running towards them from down the street. “Are you okay?” he shouted, eyes on Kate, his accent thick and European.

  “I’m fine, thank you.” She tilted her head towards Evan. “It’s all right. We know each other.”

  “If you say so,” said the man, coming to a halt. He pointed a finger at Evan, scowling. “You should be more careful.” He slunk away, periodically glancing over his shoulder.

  Evan watched him go, then turned to Kate. “I really am sorry. But what a coincidence, eh? Of all the people I could run into—”

  “Coincidence, is it? I thought you were just trying to pay me back for yesterday,” said Kate, eyes twinkling.

  Evan frowned. “No, of course not.”

  “I’m kidding,” she said. “Don’t worry, it’s all good.” She bent to collect a lipstick tube.

  “Here, I’ll do that.” Evan crouched and busied himself with retrieving the items that had scattered from her handbag. When he was done, he looked up to find Kate staring down at him, the corners of her lips curled into a warm smile. For the first time, he was struck by how unusual the colour of her eyes was. A cool, deep green, they beckoned to him, inviting, promising.

  Standing, he passed over her handbag. As she took it, their fingers touched and a frisson of electricity shot up his spine and collected in his neck, throbbing. He twitched involuntarily and looked away, eyes unfocused, sliding over the street scenery until they tripped on the carcass of his abandoned skateboard and he snapped back to the present.

  “My skateboard. I’d better get it,” he said, the words sounding strange, disconnected, as though he’d only heard rather than spoken them.

  “Got someone else you want to run over?”

  He looked at her again, tracing the outline of her teasing smile, the static charge at the base of his skull slowly dissipating. “No,” he said uncertainly, shaking his head.

  She brushed a strand of golden hair behind her ear. “Speaking of skateboards, haven’t they banned them in the middle of town?”

  He shrugged. “I did hear something along those lines. I choose to ignore it.”

  “Oh, quite the rebel, I see. I like it.” She slung her handbag over her shoulder and bent to clutch the handles of the carry-bag, but when she lifted it, the bottom ripped open, dumping the contents on the ground. “Shoot,” she said, crouching to collect up the two smaller packages the bag had held. One, larger and square with a zip and handles, encased a winter duvet. The other, smaller and without handles, contained a duvet cover and matching pillowslips, both white.

  She crumpled the torn bag in one hand and passed Evan the smaller of the two packages. “Here, you take this.” She straightened, clutching the handles of the larger package. Flashing another smile, she deposited the torn carry bag in a nearby rubbish bin, then set off down the street.

  “Where’re you going?” asked Evan, frowning.

  “Not me — we.” She paused and nodded towards his skateboard, lying upside down on the cobbles, wheels in the air like some dead, mutated cockroach. “Once we’ve retrieved your weapon, you can buy me coffee to say sorry for trying to kill me.”

  “I can?”

  “Uh-huh. And something to eat while you’re at it. Watching my life flash before my eyes has made me hungry.” She set off again, walking briskly. “You coming? Or are you just going to stand there all day with your mouth hanging open?”

  FIVE

  The Greenstone Cafe was located in an arcade beside the wharf on the western edge of town. With shops on either side and the exterior windows facing the shadowed entrance to the casino opposite, the interior of the cafe was dim. The walls were painted, the colour of hot chocolate, while the ceiling was pocked with a minimal number of amber-coloured downlights. The combined effect could have been cosy were it not for the furniture, which was angular and industrial, aluminium framing with glass surfaces — too modern and austere for Kate’s tastes. The choice of venue was Evan’s, and she was a little surprised — she wouldn’t have thought it was his type of place either.

  Two men were at a table near the windows — Japanese by the look of them, in formal shirts and trousers, bleary eyed, hands clenched around their coffee cups. A girl slouched behind the counter, pale and overdosing on mascara and eye shadow, a ring through her eyebrow, staring at them with an expression of boredom.

  Evan led her past the counter and display cabinets to a table in the far corner, away from the windows and the Japanese suits. He dropped his package on the floor, leaned his skateboard against the wall, then took his jacket off and draped it over the back of a chair.

  “What can I get you?”

  “Trim milk latte, please. And one of those raspberry and white chocolate muffins. Ask her to heat it up, put some butter on the side.” Kate placed her package on the seat next to her and laid her jacket over it. She watched Evan as he leaned on the counter and talked to the girl behind it. He was wearing a grey hoodie and stonewashed blue jeans — slim-fit, not the baggy ones she saw so many snowboarders wearing that hung halfway down their arses, displaying their underpants to the world. She admired his bum, the peach-like cheeks defined by the cut of his jeans. She imagined taking a bite out of it, a thought that raised a smile, with which she greeted him when he returned to their table, slid his chair out and sat down.

  He smiled back at her and they sat like that for a moment, silent, eyes locked, before Kate became uncomfortable and dropped her gaze. “So, do you come here often?”

  “Is that a pick-up line? A little clichéd, don’t you think?”

  Kate looked up at him again. The corners of his smile had curled higher. “No. I was just curious. I wouldn’t have picked it for your type of place.”

  Evan nodded. “The coffee’s good, and it’s quiet. But you’re right. Normally I go to Joe’s.”

  Joe’s was Joe’s Garage, a cafe in the middle of town — hipper, busier, and exactly the kind of place she imagined Evan would hang out.

  She nodded towards the two Japanese men, now engaged in quiet conversation. “What do you think their story is?”

  Evan shrugged. “High rollers, maybe. Could’ve had an all-nighter in the casino. Lots of the customers here are escapees from the casino, taking a break.”

  “Not much of an escape — it’s got the same windowless thing going on as the casino.”

  “What do you mean? It’s got windows.”

  “Yes, with a lovely view of the casino.”

  “I guess if you’ve spent all night gambling in a windowless room you don’t want to make too much of a leap. They might turn to dust in real sunlight, like vampires.”

  Kate giggled. Two women walked through the glass entrance doors — office types, in collared shirts and suit jackets.

  “Did you get a good deal on your bedware?” Evan asked. “I need a new duvet too, but they’re so expensive.”

  She shrugged. “Everything in Central Otago is expensive.”

  “You’re not wrong there.” He shifted in his seat. “It’s ridiculous. Especially when you’re working a bum job for minimum wage.”

  “Surely you’re not on minimum wage?”

  “Not quite, but working for NZSki isn’t exactly lucrative.”

  “Yes, but you have some great perks. The view, for one. I don’t think I’d ever get sick of the view. And you get to meet lots of people. Like me, for instance.”

  “Yeah, there is that,” Evan said, smiling. “There’s nothing like being up the mountain on a clear, still day, a sprinkling of fresh powder u
nderfoot, looking down on the world spread out below you, like an invitation. I guess that’s the compromise, but still, it would be nice to get paid a little more.”

  A waitress brought out their order. Kate took a sip of coffee and was pleased to discover that Evan’s judgement was on the money. She sliced her muffin in half and spread the butter on, letting it melt. Evan had ordered a sausage roll, the pastry golden brown and speckled with sesame seeds, served with a side salad of mixed greens and shaved carrot. She watched as he cut into it and took a bite, chewing slowly.

  “So, how long have you lived in Queenstown?” she asked.

  He finished his mouthful and said, “A while, on and off. Since I left school really. I started a commerce degree at Canterbury University but dropped out in the first semester and moved down here. I’ve been here ever since, with a bit of travelling in between.”

  “Where have you travelled?”

  “I’ve done a couple of seasons in Canada, spent some time in Oz. What about you?”

  “Oh, you know, just the usual. I did my OE when I left uni. Worked in the UK for a couple of years and spent some time in Europe.”

  “Do any skiing while you were there?”

  “Uh-huh. In France and Switzerland. It was amazing.”

  “I’ll bet. I’d love to go to Switzerland. What about more recently?”

  Kate sipped her coffee, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. Her only recent travel had been with Lawrence, and it had all been tropical — holiday escapes to the islands in the middle of winter. His last holiday had been tropical too, just not with her.