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Chapter One
Thursday 10th December
Vix
The old Harbour Master’s cottage on the hill glows like a jewel in the gathering dusk, light spilling from its windows onto the front lawn. I rest the box of books I’m carrying on the fence as I check the post box, then pause to look at the view.
It’s a beautiful early summer evening in the Northland of New Zealand. Beyond the rooftops, the ocean is the colour of coral, reflecting the pink-and-gold sunset. The busy traffic has died down, and seagulls cry as they swoop overhead. This is my favourite time of day, when most of the tourists have taken the ferry back to the mainland, and Evermore Island is settling down for the night.
On the roundabout where Cutter Street intersects Harpoon Lane, the statue of Captain Cook looks solemnly out to sea as if watching someone he loves sailing away. Maybe I’m just projecting, but his expression seems to hold a mixture of sadness and relief.
Today marks a full six months since Jayden left. Watching him board the ferry that day, when he walked up the gangplank without looking back, was the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do. I cried all day, and every night after that for a couple of weeks.
Gradually, the pain has faded, but today has brought back a flare of memories. I’ve felt funny all day: upset, then wistful, then furious, then sad, all mixed up together. I didn’t cry, though. I’m not shedding any more tears over Jayden Richards.
Refusing to let the memories sour my mood, I go through the gate, follow the flagstone path around the back, and open the door. As I take off my shoes in the hallway, the smell of baking wafts over me, and my stomach rumbles.
I walk along the polished, kauri-wood floorboards to the living room and drop the box of books in there, then go to the kitchen. I pause in the doorway, smiling at the sight of my daughter, Millie, helping one of my friends to prepare the snacks for the book club meeting that’s about to start.
“Something smells good.” I smile at Emma, who’s in the process of taking some mince pies out of the oven. “Wow, are they still warm?”
“Hey you.” Emma throws me a grin. “Thought you deserved a treat after your busy day.”
“Mummy!” My daughter jumps down from the stool she was kneeling on and runs over to throw her arms around my knees, her brown curls bouncing. “Emma let me ice some cupcakes.”
“Oh,” I tease, “you mean some of the icing made it to the cakes?”
She giggles and wipes her sticky mouth.
“We were just about to take them all through to the living room.” Emma gives Millie a bowl of Kiwi onion dip. “Can you carry this through, please?” Millie takes it and carries it out ceremoniously as if it’s a crown on a cushion.
“If she drops that, it’ll make a mess,” I advise Emma.
“She won’t. She doesn’t take after her mother.”
On cue, I knock into the table, and the wine glasses sitting on the tray rattle. Hastily, I catch the one that’s about to fall. “Point taken.”
“Honestly, Vix, you must be related to Charlie Chaplin.” She gestures at her top lip. “The moustache gives it away.”
“Are you really mocking the afflicted? How rude.” I poke my tongue out at her, and she chuckles. “Thank you for looking after Millie, by the way,” I add. “She adores you.”
Emma retrieves an elastic from the pocket of her jeans and scoops her blonde curly hair up into a messy bun. It’s warm in the kitchen, and her English-rose skin is flushed a pretty pink. “She’s such a gorgeous little thing,” she says. “I can’t believe she’ll be starting school next year.”
“Oh, I know. Where has the time gone?” I pick up the tray with the mince pies, and she carries one with a plate of cupcakes and a bowl ready to hold a packet of veggie chips. Together we take them through to the living room and put them on the coffee table. Millie has disappeared, no doubt gone to bother my father in his study.
The room looks appropriately Christmassy for the book club meeting tonight. The fairy lights on the tree twinkle, and the paper snowflakes that Millie and I made, covered in glitter and tied to a piece of string, turn in the breeze from the open window. On the mantelpiece, a jolly Kiwi Santa in shorts and rubber boots sits on a sleigh pulled by nine sheep, one of which has a red nose.
Emma glances at the door to make sure Millie can’t hear us. “How are you doing? You looked a bit blue when you came in.”
I undo the bag of chips and tip them into the bowl. Then I stop and sigh. “I realised today that Jayden left on June the tenth. Exactly six months ago.”
“Jesus, that’s gone quick.” Her brows draw together. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve been more emotional than I expected today. But I got through it.”
She gives me a sympathetic look. “It’s been such a tough time for you, what with Jayden leaving, then your mum passing.”
“Yeah. It’s been hard.” I rearrange the items on the tray. “I’m just glad Dad had a few extra rooms or I’d have been kipping on your sofa.”
