Eye for an Eye (18 page)

‘You don’t know
how right you are,’ thought Robyn to herself.

Colwyn smiled
deprecatingly.

‘It’s easy
enough to pick up. With quite basic computer skills you can access
a world of information where real money can be made. If you’re
prepared to put the work into researching various companies and
their activities, you can take advantage of trends that others
haven’t even spotted yet.’

Kate reached
across the table and patted his hand.

‘You make it
sound so simple, Colwyn. Is your scheme really that easy?’

He smiled.

‘Well obviously
it takes a certain degree of skill in interpreting the information
that you find. But it’s really quite safe when you know what you’re
doing. Alan, Kate - I introduced you to Robyn here because she is
about to come into a good deal of money, which she is graciously
allowing me to invest for her. We plan to double her inheritance in
a few months and impress her father with her financial acumen. I
can do the same with your money and you could all make a great deal
of profit.’

Robyn choked on
her Pimms.

‘Excuse me!’
she murmured, mopping at the drink spots on her pale dress. ‘Sorry,
don’t let me interrupt, I’ll just go and fix this.’

She eased out
of the booth and took refuge in the ladies’ room where she leaned
on the counter and caught her breath.

Bloody hell! He
was using her own fraudulent story to help him cheat Kate and Alan
out of what was probably their retirement fund! With no warning,
he’d suddenly put her on the side of the bad guys. Somehow she had
to put things right and find a way to distance herself from Colwyn,
but without blowing her cover with him. How could she tell Kate and
Alan that Colwyn was a cheat and a liar without tipping him off
that something was wrong?

While her brain
was doing wheelspins, Kate came into the room.

‘Are you OK,
honey? Swallowed some the wrong way, did you?’

‘Just a little.
I’m fine, thank you.’

Robyn patted a
paper towel to her lips while Kate ran a comb through her fluffy
grey curls and applied fresh lipstick. She drew a deep breath.

‘Kate, there’s
something I should tell you about Colwyn…’

Colwyn moved
around the booth to sit closer to Alan. He kept his voice low as if
imparting a secret.

‘This could be
a very big opportunity, Alan. Robyn has a large trust fund to
invest, and I’ve just heard of some exciting new developments in
the property market in New York. If you and Kate are willing, I’d
like to share a slice of the pie with you - and it’s a substantial
pie I can assure you. Now I understand that you need to talk this
over with Kate and get her permission to invest, so I’ll let you
two discuss it later and get back to you.’

He clapped Alan
on the shoulder and moved back to his own seat.

‘Hey, it’s not
like she’s the one in charge of our money,’ protested Alan. ‘I can
make decisions for the both of us.’

‘Of course you
can, no question. But it can lead to friction if one partner isn’t
happy with the other’s decision. Best to avoid that if we can,
yes?’

‘Yeah, I guess
you’re right there. You sure you’re not married? Sounds like you
know all about it!’

‘I know life is
easier if you can keep the little woman happy.’ Colwyn winked and
tapped his nose.

‘Oh that’s for
sure! It doesn’t take much to turn that cute little pussycat into a
hell of a tiger if you do something wrong, eh?’

They stifled
their chuckles quickly as Kate and Robyn returned to the table.

‘Hi honey,
everything OK?’ said Alan, looking the picture of innocence. Kate
put her hands on her hips and looked down at the two men.

‘What have you
guys been up to?’

Colwyn spread
his hands in a display of injured virtue. ‘Not a thing! All we did
was to talk about two lovely ladies - and now here you are.’

Kate and Robyn
exchanged glances. ‘Do we let them get away with that, Robyn?’

Robyn shrugged.
‘Well there’s no actual evidence of wrongdoing, so I guess we do.
This time.’

She sat down
next to Colwyn and slipped her arm through his. ‘Let’s have another
drink and celebrate how enormously wealthy you’re going to make us
all.’

In the morning
she woke with a dry mouth and the threat of a nasty headache. She
groped her way to the kitchen for a glass of water and staggered
back to bed for another hour.

Next time she
woke she felt almost normal, and the headache had dulled down to a
light throb. She could hear Mike moving about in the kitchen, and
the promising scent of breakfast was enough to lure her out of bed.
She slipped on a sweatshirt over the outsize T-shirt she slept in
and padded out to the kitchen.

Mike was at the
stove, dressed in faded jeans and a light denim shirt. His hair was
tidy, but bare feet and an unshaven jaw made him seem more relaxed
than usual.

‘Hey,
good-lookin’, she said brightly. ‘What ya got cooking?’

‘Pancakes and
bacon. Would you like some?’

‘Seems an odd
combination, but I’ll give it a go. Thanks mate.’

She settled
herself on a stool at the counter and watched him while he
cooked.

‘You do that
like a pro. Been fending for yourself for a while, have you?’

‘A few years,’
he said quietly, whisking up a fresh bowl of batter.

‘So what made
you and the missus split up - if you don’t mind my asking?’

He paused,
considering his response.

‘Let’s just say
“you get what you deserve”, OK?’

‘What’s that
supposed to mean?’

‘It was my
fault. We got married, I worked too hard, she felt neglected. She
developed…other interests. We drifted apart, she moved out, end of
marriage.’

‘Just like
that?’

‘No, not just
like that! That’s the short, clean, public version of the story.
And it’s all you get.’ He turned back to the stove but not before
she’d seen a glimpse of the raw pain in his eyes.

‘Sorry Mike, I
didn’t mean to touch a sore point. I’ll shut up, shall I?’

He smiled
faintly. ‘You could try, Robyn, but I can’t believe it would last
for long. Here, come and eat your breakfast.’

They tucked in
companionably, and Robyn discovered the exquisite taste of bacon,
pancakes and genuine maple syrup.

‘Wow, this is
incredible! I’ve never tasted maple syrup like this before -
where’s it from? The stuff we get in the supermarket doesn’t taste
anything like this good.’

‘This is
home-made syrup from a little town near where my folks live, about
an hour north of the city. There’s an old guy called Henri Leveque
who has been making it for years, following the old traditions - we
used to go there as kids for taffy pulling and frozen syrup in
early spring.’ His voice warmed as he remembered.

‘It beats the
pants off the fake stuff, doesn’t it?’

‘It tastes
better still when you’re out in the woods with snow all around,
there’s a tangy scent of wood-smoke on the air, and you’re a
ten-year-old kid with an appetite like a horse. They pour the hot
syrup on the snow, it freezes hard, then you break it into bits and
eat it.’

His face
softened with the memory. ‘I miss the country, sometimes.’

‘Well why don’t
we go out there? How about today?’ She almost bounced in her seat
with enthusiasm. Mike shook his head.

‘No, I’ve got
work I should be doing. I got a whole lot of figures yesterday that
need checking. I can’t just drop everything and take off.’

‘Mike,’ she
said exasperatedly, ‘it’s the weekend. It’s time to relax and have
some fun. You can’t work all the time, it’s not good for you.’

He looked at
her blankly.

‘Work is all I
have. It’s what I do. I enjoy it and I’m good at it. I don’t need
anything else.’

‘Oh rubbish!
You need balance in your life - something frivolous and
light-hearted to give your mind a rest. What about fresh air and
relaxation? When did you last run on the grass or swim in a river?’
She watched him thinking.

‘I suppose it’s
been a while,’ he admitted finally. ‘OK, you win. You want a drive
in the country? You got one.’

She brightened
immediately.

‘We can get out
of the city? See grass and trees and animals? All right! That’s
great. And you know an even better idea? We won’t even take our
cell-phones.’

‘Done. However,
before we rush off and leave our responsibilities behind, we’d
better call in at the store and pick up some groceries. I’m not
well equipped for visitors here, and you’re going to need something
more than pancakes next week after working all day.’

‘Oh OK, no
argument there. But I’ll pay my share, agreed?’

‘Fine by
me.’

He gathered
their plates and slid them into the dishwasher. ‘Right, if we’re
going up country we should get moving. Don’t want to take too long
in the supermarket.’

‘Ha, I’m the
world’s fastest shopper, mate! In, up and down the aisles, out -
done! No worries.’

However, once
they’d arrived at the supermarket and she’d reached the first aisle
she paused, bewildered. Everything was strange.

‘What’s the
hold-up?’ asked Mike, wheeling the cart back towards her.

‘I don’t
recognise anything! All the brands are new to me, the wrappers are
different, and some of these products I’ve never even heard of! I
mean, it’s all in English as well as French, but it’s so foreign! I
don’t know where anything is.’

‘Just follow me
then. Tell me what you want and I’ll try to find it for you.’

‘Oh you’re a
wee prince! Thanks mate.’ She paused to think, using her mother’s
trick of running through each meal of the day to figure out what
she’d need. ‘OK, where’s the breakfast cereal? I’d better have
something less fattening than pancakes and bacon or I’ll end up the
size of a house. It would be a crying shame if I got too fat to
wear those lovely dresses we bought, eh?’

They located
the cereals, and Robyn’s jaw dropped at the staggering range of
products.

‘Jeez, look at
this lot! ‘Snaggle-ohs’, ‘Ricie Puffs’, ‘Cherry Nut Clusters’,
‘Choconana Crunch’ - hell, all I wanted was a plain old packet of
Weetbix!’

Mike found some
‘Wheaty Biskits’ which she grudgingly accepted as the nearest she
was going to get, and they moved on towards the dairy section.
Robyn snorted at the specials poster, which advertised ‘Homo milk’
as the week’s bargain.

‘How do they
harvest that then?’ she gurgled, while Mike pointedly ignored her
and reached into the chiller for a couple of plastic bags of milk.
‘Be thankful you’re getting this and not ‘non-dairy creamer’ to put
on your Wheaty Biskits, missy.’

She pantomimed
retching into the chiller, drawing frosty looks from nearby
customers.

‘Where’s the
Vegemite?’ she asked at the stand of spreads and jams. The
assistant looked apprehensive.

‘Pardon
me?’

‘You know,
Vegemite for sandwiches? I’ll take Marmite instead if that’s all
you’ve got.’

‘You may want
to try the Deli counter, ma’am.’

There she found
a very small jar of Marmite with a very large price-tag.

‘What? That’s
five times dearer than it should be! Bloody daylight robbery!’

At the meat
counter she exclaimed loudly at the prices, and made disparaging
comments about the quality of the meat displayed.

‘We wouldn’t
use that rubbish for dog tucker! Look at it! The butcher should be
bloody well hung, because this meat certainly wasn’t!’

Mike pulled her
away and they completed their shopping in record time in his
attempt to keep her out of trouble. Despite her protests he hustled
her through the checkout to wait on the other side while he paid
for the groceries, then marched her outside.

‘Stay here with
the cart while I go and get the van,’ he told her sternly. ‘No
talking to anyone.’

She grinned
unrepentantly. ‘Off you trot then. I’ll be good.’

Once they had
driven home and put their purchases away, they climbed back into
Mike’s white van and headed east across the city, to Robyn’s
confusion.

‘I thought we
were going north to get to this place?’

‘First we have
to get out of the city. It’s Saturday and it’s summer - three
million people will be heading away for the weekend and the roads
can get very busy. Wait till you see the Don Valley Parkway, it may
well be nose-to-tail for two or three hours or more. They call it
the Don Valley Parking lot.’ Mike ran his hand through his hair and
turned up the aircon.

‘Doesn’t say
much for the quality of life here, does it? Where I come from,
there’s so little traffic in some parts of the country that drivers
still wave to each other when they pass!’

‘You’re
kidding! Even in the city?’

‘Well no, I
don’t think Auckland is like that any more, and probably not the
other main centres either - but the country areas are still very
friendly. You’ve probably seen the posters - “It’s clean and green
and relaxed, and there’s always a smile even for strangers.” Oh,
and “100% pure New Zealand.” See, I’ve been paying attention to the
Tourism Board videos!’

‘It sounds like
a nice place. Are you missing it while you’re here?’ He glanced
across at her, eyebrows raised.

She considered
for a moment. ‘Yes, I am, but I’m also enjoying a taste of the city
while I’ve got the chance. Usually we only see this sort of thing
on TV and in the movies. It’s quite cool to be living here and
experiencing life in the fast lane.’

‘Hold on to
your hat, then, we’re about to go onto the 401.’

‘What’s the 401
- holy shit!’

They had just
entered a broad highway that had six lanes full of traffic in each
direction. Huge signs whizzed past overhead giving directions to
places Robyn had never heard of. Large warnings about upcoming
exits flashed by, while the rest of their surroundings retreated to
a speeding blur beyond the roadside barriers. They moved to a
middle lane, passing slower vehicles on their right while others
zoomed past them on the left.