A Roast on Sunday (19 page)

“
Weeeeeeeeee,” she’d squealed, and the others had laughed.

She wasn’t so fussed with the walk to the cave though. It felt like forever but was probably only an hour or so. Just when she was ready to sit down and say that she couldn’t walk another step her mother had declared,

“We’re here.”

And Maggie had looked around, confused. This was it? All she could see were trees and thick undergrowth. No cave.

“Where is it?”

“You can’t see it?” Arihana had smiled, “My dear, open your eyes and let them adjust to the colours of the forest.”

Maggie had rolled her eyes but did what she was told, looking around and studying her surroundings. Then she saw it. What had looked at first glance like nothing but a big mossy boulder, didn’t actually quite touch the ground. She could see it had a little overhang, and when she pushed aside a bush and made her way around it she gasped. There, just around the corner, invisible unless you were right in front of it, was the entrance to the cave.

“Wow.”

“Impressive, isn’t it.”

“Can I go in?”

“Sure, just let me go first in case a bear has decided to make it home.”

“Don’t be lame mum. W
e don’t have bears here in New Zealand.”

“Are you sure about that?”

And even though Maggie was sure, her mother’s twinkling eyes and the taste of the forest on her tongue made her think anything was possible up here.

T
hankfully the cave was empty of wildlife, bar the odd scuttling lizard. Inside, Maggie got another surprise. She’d been expecting, well she wasn’t sure
exactly
what she’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t what she saw.

The stone floor was dry and flat and the cave, she estimated, was around five
metres square. But it wasn’t the cave itself that was so surprising, it was its contents. A stack of folded bedding and thin mattresses were piled up against the wall furthest from her. In one corner at the back a gramophone sat on a small wooden cabinet. Beside it was a basket of records, and thrown over the whole lot was a large plastic cover. Some deck chairs were folded up neatly and stood against the side of the cave, and beside them was another small cabinet, containing what she later discovered to be shelves of non perishable food, beside a small gas two ring cooker.

“Whoa,” she said, trying to take it all in. “How did you guys get all this stuff up here.”

Hazel had shrugged. “Over the years we’ve bought things up as we can.”

“You guys carried that thing all the way up here?” Maggie pointed at the gramophone.
“Looks like it weighs a ton.”

“
Oh no, for the heavier things we enlisted the help of some willing and capable men,” Hazel grinned wickedly at the others. “We swore them to absolute secrecy of course.”

“Right
let’s get this place sorted out,” Arihana had said briskly while rubbing her hands together, and with the four of them working they got the place looking cosy in no time. Beds set up, gramophone uncovered, gas cooker at the ready and a small fire set up in the entrance ready to be struck with a match later when the temperature dropped.

“Won’t that smoke us out?” Maggie
asked.

“No, one of the neatest things about this
cave is its natural design. Look,” Arihana gestured Maggie over towards the entrance, “up there,” she pointed.

Maggie looked up and saw fissures in the rock through which she could
see tiny glimpses of far off sunlight.

“What is it?”

“A natural chimney in the rock. All the smoke gets sucked up there and released out through the hills further up. Stops us from getting smoked out, and prevents people from following the smoke to our cave.”

The next day, when a tired but happy
Maggie and Dot returned home, Ray tried to quiz her on what had taken place up in the cave where he wasn’t allowed. But Maggie had taken an oath and wouldn’t tell him anything. She refused to tell him about the singing and dancing to the old records, or the feast they’d cooked up of steaks and baked beans, with bread to soak up the sauce and cans of creamed rice to finish the meal off. She didn’t tell him how the ladies had drunk wine with their meal and whiskey as a chaser, and they gave Maggie bubbly lemonade in a wine glass to drink which she pretended was wine too. Or that as well as the singing there had been plenty of talking, more talking in fact, than she’d ever heard in one place ever. A lot of it had gone over her head. The women talked about some things that were a mystery to her. They complained about their husbands a fair bit, but having lived with her father Maggie felt that was justifiable.  She didn’t tell him that she’d been allowed to stay up until two in the morning, when they all finally climbed onto the little beds, and how she’d nestled in beside her mother and looked up out the cave entrance at the stars twinkling through the trees. And she’d lain there and listened to the gentle sound of Hazel snoring, and the soft timbre of her mother’s voice as she recited to her the story of Peter Pan off by heart. Maggie was entranced because in the back reaches of the cave, little pin pricks of lights sat listening to the story as well, and what else could they be but fairies? Of course in later years she realised they were probably glow worms, but back then it had felt as if Tinkerbell and the others were right there with her. It had been the most wonderful night of her life, and how special she had felt that her mother and the others had chosen to share their special place with her.

That feeling had
stayed with her for a long, long time. Right through her teenage years and on into early womanhood. It was a special connection she had with her mother.

Now, sitting at the table, she tried to remember when she had stopped thinking about it.
When had the special feeling worn off? For the life of her she couldn’t remember. Somewhere along the way other things had taken up space in her memories and in her heart and she had lost it.

“I remember,” she said to her father. “I remember it was wonderful and magical and I loved it.”

He smiled at her fondly. “There you go. Don’t you want Willow to have the same experience?”

Maggie nodded.
Willow would love it.

“Your mother
just figured that after everything she’s been through this week with her father, she deserved a little getaway.”

“That was a nice idea
.”

“So you’re not angry anymore?”

She shook her head. “No. I still wish she’d talked about it with me first though. I’ll tell her off when she gets back.”

“I’m sure she’ll be expecting it.”

Maggie stood up again to finish making the forgotten cups of tea.

“So we’re good?” her father asked.

“We’re fine dad.”

“
Grand. Any chance of that breakfast then?”

Maggie reached up to the top of the fridge and grabbed the box of
Weet-Bix that was sitting there. Then she opened the fridge and got the milk off the inside of the door. She plonked both down in front of him. He watched, puzzled, as she went to a cupboard and picked out a bowl. She put that in front of him too.

“There you go,” she announced.

“What’s this?”

“Breakfast dad.
It’s not healthy to have a fried breakfast every day, and if I know you, which I do, you’ll overindulge come Christmas Day and spend the next week feeling sorry for yourself.”

“So?”

“So why don’t you eat light for a couple of days in preparation.”

“But
Weet-bix? It’s hardly a meal is it.”

“If it’s alright for the All Blacks dad, then it’s alright for you.”

She kissed him on the head and left the kitchen. She had something she needed to do.

Chapter
twenty two

She realised as she was driving into town that she had absolutely no idea where Jack lived. How could she have not found that out? Actually, when she thought about it, there was a lot she didn’t know about him. She had been so busy telling him to butt out of
her
life she hadn’t bothered to find out anything about
his
. She drove by the vet clinic, not sure if it would be open right before Christmas, but she was in luck. The sign was out front and his truck was in the car park. She parked beside it and then looked at herself in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were bright and shiny with nervous anticipation.

Was she really going to do this?

Yes, she told herself firmly. She was not going to talk herself into chickening out. Get in, get out and get it done before she could think about it too much. She got out and locked her car and walked quickly up the ramp that led into the surgery. After the way she had talked to her at the carol night Maggie was dreading seeing Amy, but the young lady was nowhere about. There was no sign of anyone in fact, but a bell was sitting on the counter next to a note informing her to ring for service. Maggie gave it a quick shake, alarmed at how loud it sounded in this tiny room. Then she waited a few minutes, pretending to read posters on the wall and the backs of cans of dog food off the shelves, anything to hide how nervous she was feeling. Just as her confidence deserted her and she made the decision to flee, a foot already over the threshold, the door behind the counter rolled open and Jack poked his head through.

“I’ll be with you in just a minute,” he said. Then he saw who it was. “Oh, it’s
just you.” He straightened up and came through the door, peeling off a pair of latex gloves. Maggie could see that he had a fresh red scratch bleeding on the back of one hand.

“Hi, yes it’s just me. I can come back later if you’re busy?”

“I’m always busy, but even more so since that dim witted receptionist decided the job wasn’t for her and quit right on Christmas. Still, saved me the hassles of firing her I suppose.”

“You don’t close
up over the holiday period?”

He gave her a look
like she was dim-witted. “No. Rather inconveniently animals don’t stop getting sick just because it’s Christmas.”

Maggie laughed
, embarrassed by her silly question. “Of course. Sorry.”

“
Not that it’s not nice to see you Maggie, because it always is, but was there something you were after? Only I’m a bit busy having a minor disagreement with a cat who won’t sit still long enough for me to shave his leg and give him a shot.”

“
It wasn’t anything important, nothing that can’t wait until later.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. You go take care of that cat and we’ll catch up another time.”

“Ok.”
But he made no move to go, just stood there and watched as she walked out the door, banging one arm against the frame awkwardly when she stumbled under his gaze. She got half way down the ramp before she stopped and did a little frustrated jig and screamed soundlessly. Then she took a deep breath, gave herself a mental kick up the ass and turned around to march back inside. He was standing in the doorway watching her, an amused smile on his face.

She realised he had seen her little performance.

“Are you feeling ok Maggie?”

S
he raised her chin and stared him straight in the eyes. “Never better,” she said. “Following me again?”

“I know you like to think I’m your own personal stalker but no, I was going to
grab the sign and lock the doors. I have so much to catch up with out back I could do without more interruptions.”

She frowned. “
But what if someone has an emergency?”

“Then they can call my cellphone. The number is plastered on the door and the side of my truck for all to see.”

“Oh. That’s ok then.”

He leant against the doorframe and crossed his arms casually over his chest.
“Did you forget something?”

“Forget something?”

“Only you were leaving and then you seemed to have some kind of fit, and now you’re still standing here.”

“It wasn’t a fit, funny
guy, I was merely expressing some emotion.”

“Well I hope I wasn’t the cause of it.
Looked painful.”

She put her hands on her hips and glared at him. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“Oh my god, you’re so annoying!”

“So you keep telling me.”

“I’m leaving now.”

“You have a good day.”

She walked two steps then whirled back.

“What is it about you? No one else annoys me like you do.”

He shrugged. “My special talent I guess
. They do say everyone has one of some sort.”

“It’s not
talent to annoy someone. Any five year old child can do it. Obviously somewhere along the way you forgot to grow up.”

“Where’
s the fun in growing up? I much prefer a child’s outlook on life, don’t you?”

“We all have to grow up at some stage.”

“To a degree,” he conceded. “But how much is entirely up to you. The world would be a much better place to live in if we all maintained some of the imagination we enjoyed as children.”

It was such a wise and beautiful thing to say, and he was right, but Maggie didn’t tell him that.
What was it about him? Why did it only take one look from him, one look where it seemed he saw right into her soul and knew everything about her? And one smile that told her he liked what he saw? A look, a smile and she wanted to fling herself at him and never let go. She felt the desire to be as close to him as humanly possible, not just in a physical sense, although that urge was strong. But in every sense. She wanted to know everything there was to know about him. She wanted to see his smile aimed at her every single day. She wanted to sit on his lap and feel his arms around her, to nestle her head in the crook of his neck and inhale that delicious heady scent that was purely his.

When exactly it
had happened she wasn’t sure, but somehow he had gone from being someone she couldn’t stand the sight of, to someone she never wanted to be out of sight of, ever again.

“Maggie?”

She shook herself out of her reverie. “Hmm?”

“You ok? You seemed lost in your own little world there.”

“I’m fine.”

And she could swear that he had read her thoughts, as she saw the same longing
in his eyes reflected back at her. Neither of them could break the stare and for a moment Maggie felt sure he was about to step forward and kiss her, and she opened her mouth slightly in preparation. But then a loud beep broke the spell and they both stepped backwards.

A car had driven past and tooted at them. They both lifted an arm
half-heartedly and waved in the general direction the sound had come from, although neither of them turned to see who it was.

“Right,” Jack ran a hand through his hair as if waking from a dream.”I’
d better get back in there or I’ll have a mutiny on my hands.”

“Ok,” Maggie nodded.
But she so badly didn’t want to leave him. Then she had a thought. “Do you need some help?”

“Don’t you have a shop you need to run?”

She pulled a face. “No, I took the sign down yesterday as I’d planned on spending the day with Willow. My bloody mother scuttled that idea.”

“Dare I ask?”

“I wouldn’t if I were you.”

“Sounds intriguing.”
He ran his hands through his hair again. “Um, sure, some help would be great, but only if there’s nowhere else you need to be?”

“No
pe, I’m all yours,” she said, and then blushed when she realised what she’d said.

“I like the sound of that.”

She blushed even deeper. “Shut up.”

“I’m still waiting for you to make me.”

“Do you want my help or not?”

“I do.”

“Then stop making me blush.”

“
You do that all by yourself.”He stepped to the side and held open the door. “After you.”

She stepped past him, acutely aware of the close proximity of their bodies.
As she watched him lock the door she remembered how much closer they had been, and the memory of how incredible it had felt made her bite her lower lip hard to suppress her longing. It was either that or lunge and bite him, but it sounded like he’d had enough of that from his patients. She grinned at the thought.

“That’s a slightly evil grin
. Should I be worried?”

“Not at all,” she
said innocently, but she wondered what he’d say if he knew the true direction her thoughts had taken.

“Follow me.
” He led her behind the counter and through the door from where he’d emerged earlier. She admired his body as she followed him down the corridor, her eyes running along his wide shoulders, down the contours of his arms and across to his back, broad at the top but narrower at the waist. A memory of her legs wrapped around that waist flashed across her mind and she stumbled slightly before catching her balance.

“You ok?” he asked, turning when he heard her hand slap against the wall to steady
herself.

“
Fine, just tripped on the rug.”

“There
is no rug, just lino.”

“Then
obviously I tripped on the lino.”

“You tripped on the smooth, flat lino?”

“What are you - the tripping police?”

“You’re acting weird.
Something on your mind?”

“If you
only knew.”

“Sorry?”

“Nothing. Are we going to do some work or not?”

“Calm down stroppy,” he
held his hands in front of them palms facing out as if she were a wild horse in need of soothing. “What is it about you Maggie Tanner?”

She sighed exaggeratedly, “We’ve been here
, done this” she said. “And you came up with no answer then either.”

“One day I will figure you out. Mark my words.”

“We’ll see.”

They heard a high pitched howl and then a fierce spitting from a room just ahead. Maggie gulped. “That’s the culprit?” she gestur
ed towards his injured hand.

“That’s him.”

“You sure he’s just a cat and not actually a wild animal?”

“Oh he’s definitely
your typical, run of the mill, domesticated tabby. He’s just not a very happy one right now. In fact, he’s pretty pissed off.”

“
And you expect me to hold him?”

“
You volunteered.”

“Is it too late to back out?”

“Oh, it’s much too late for that,” he said, “there’s no going back now.” And again she felt there was a second meaning behind his words. It turned out Maggie had a knack for soothing distressed animals. When she stepped into the room behind Jack, hesitant and ready to flee at the first hint of a massacre, the cat leapt off the table and into her arms. She screamed, thinking he was attacking but instead he’d burrowed into her arms and shivered in fear, looking up at her through terrified eyes.

‘Shush now baby,” she comforted him. “You’re ok
now, I’m here to protect you from the big nasty man.”

“Well I’ll be,” Jack marvelled. “You’ve tamed the poor guy. Is no man immune to your charms?”

Maggie smiled smugly and rubbed the cat behind the ears while he purred. “What’s his name?”

“Bruno.”

She scrunched up a nose. “I see his owner shares your appalling talent for pet naming.”

“
Hey,” he flicked her with one of the latex gloves he was in the process of pulling onto his hands. “I told you Rufus wasn’t my choice. Ok, hold him steady on the table and be wary of his teeth.”

She did as told but he needn’t have worried. Bruno was putty in her hands, and she cooed and told him
what a handsome little fella he was while Jack shaved a small section of fur off his paw and gave him the necessary injection. He didn’t even flinch when the needle went in.

“What’s he in for?” she asked.

“Same thing he’s in for every month – an infection from fighting. Bruno here thinks he owns half the town and spends his nights defending his territory. I can’t tell you how many claws I’ve pulled out of his head in the short time I’ve been here.”

Maggie bent down until she was level with Bruno’s eyes. “Now listen you,” she said
sternly, “I want you to stop all this nonsense. Fighting is for bullies, and you are much too cute to be a bully.”

Bruno looked suitably shamefaced while Jack snorted. She elbowed him.

“Well?” he protested. “How can you say he’s cute? Look at the ugly mug on him.”

They both looked at the downcast Bruno. Both ears were missing their tips and he had a large pink scar running across the top of one eye. A fresh nick out of his nose from the latest brawl completed the look.