CHAPTER FIFTEEN — THE DIARIES
So that was why he’d been running late. And why she had the occasional twinge in her very well-used body, if she was honest.
It was also why she had to extricate herself from this job as soon as possible. She needed to get right away from Nick or he’d sabotage all her plans. She’d waited so long to be free, and now she floundered in quicksand. If he suggested she stayed, she knew she’d be far too willing, and all her long-held hopes and dreams would grind to a juddering halt.
Not that he would of course. Not Mr Sexy-as-hell, I’ll-have-you-when-I-want-you Nick Sharpe.
She sighed as she stowed her bag in her locker. Her vulnerable heart would shred into ribbons when she left him. And the longer she stayed the worse the ripping and bleeding was going to be.
But you have to go, Sammie. He’s using you as a bit of fun for old times’ sake. Or to take his mind off this rotten adoption business. Snap out of it.
The morning dragged, even though there was plenty to do. She’d thought not having Nick around to summon her to his office, or walk up behind her and rub her shoulders, or whisk her off to lunch, would make concentrating much easier.
She was wrong. She kept expecting to see him, wanting to see him, hoping ridiculously that he’d get an earlier flight home.
No Sammie—you need to get away from him. And you need a diversion to stop you thinking like this.
Evan the builder phoned once, with a long rambling query about the granite counter-tops in the kitchen and a rather pointed enquiry about when she’d next be on site. Sammie referred him to the kitchen designer as soon as she could, gaining the definite impression he’d been wasting her time and didn’t need to speak to anyone at all. The kitchen installation would be weeks off yet.
She called Anita. “Hi, how’s your cold now?”
“Much better, darling. It was nasty, but at least it was fast.”
“So would you like to bring Ray and the boys to my apartment for dinner? Just something casual?”
“As long as it’s pizza they’ll eat anything!”
“I was thinking Thai...”
“Lovely for us grown-ups, but Josh and Charlie would turn their naughty noses up at it.”
“No probs. I can get pizza too.”
“When were you thinking?”
“Whenever suits.”
“Not tomorrow. Ray’s away in Christchurch until quite late.”
Sammie could picture Anita running a beautifully manicured finger over the French-cookery calendar on the kitchen wall.
“Not Saturday—we’re having dinner with some friends at The Dolphin. Not Monday...there’s a parents’ night at Charlie’s school...”
“Tonight?” Sammie broke in, not really expecting they’d be free.
“Tonight? Yes, that’s fine. School tomorrow, so we mustn’t be too late.”
“No—an early night would do me good too.”
After two very late ones.
“Six o’clock? We’ll get the pizza if you like.”
“This is supposed to be my treat for you,” Sammie protested. “To thank you for having me to stay.”
“You can thank us with the Thai. There’ll be no ructions about wrong toppings if the boys choose the pizza. And we’ll bring some wine to celebrate your new job, too.”
Sammie closed her eyes. “This is going to be more your treat than mine at this rate. And it’s only a temporary job. In fact it might be more temporary than I thought.”
“Sammie—is something wrong?”
She smiled at the motherly note in Anita’s voice. How long since she’d heard concern from any mother figure? Her Mom had died almost twelve years ago, closely followed by a broken-hearted Gran. Silvia, her grandmother’s housekeeper/companion, had moved out of her life then too. After that, it had been only Grandpa and her—and she’d been the mother for the last few years of that relationship.
She puffed out an exasperated sigh. “No, not exactly wrong. A bit uncomfortable perhaps. Turns out I knew the boss years ago.”
“Did you have an affair?” Anita asked, keen to gossip.
“Anita! I was thirteen. No, of course not.”
“Not that yummy dark haired boy leaning all over you?”
“I’m sure he wasn’t. I warned him not to.”
“He was. He moved away when Heidi and I came back from my tour, but I saw him through the glass.”
“He’s not exactly a boy any longer.”
“So it’s him?”
Now she wished she’d never mentioned it. “It’s him, and I’d rather it wasn’t. So I think I’ll get the temp agency to find someone else and that’ll take care of things very neatly.”
“And that’s who you dressed up for?” Anita persisted.
“Yes, but that was business psychology. We wanted to look very professional and try and swing a deal in Australia.”
“Mmmmmmm.”
There was such speculation in her voice that Sammie quickly said, “Gotta go. See you around six,” and disconnected.
After lunch, she took a deep breath and swung into action. She searched through the files until she found the CVs of the people who’d applied for Tyler’s job. It was no surprise Julie had been the top candidate—her skills outshone the other four on the shortlist. But Julie had walked out and left Nick in the lurch.
She skip-read all the dossiers and tried to imagine each applicant doing the job. A girl called Clare had all the necessary skills, but the smiling photo clipped to the corner showed a broad face, an extra chin, and pudgy shoulders—and however unfair it might seem, BodyWork needed a front person who reflected the business they were in. Sorry Clare.
Maybe Tyler could help? On impulse, she telephoned the hospital. “Hi. How’s motherhood now you’ve had another day of it?”
“Sammie—wonderful! She’s so cute I can’t believe she’s mine. How are things going with you?”
“Everything’s under control. Mostly because Nick’s away in Auckland today.”
She hesitated just a fraction too long and perceptive Tyler asked, “But?”
“Yeah...but. And it’s a big one. I can’t stay here. I need to find a replacement.”
“I thought you were fitting in so well?”
Sammie wondered how much to tell her. Just enough, she hoped. “It’s not the job. It’s Nick.”
“Aren’t you getting on?”
A small sad laugh escaped. “Yes, we’re getting on. But it turns out I knew him when I was a teenager and it’s making things awkward. We used to have a little thing going, and it’s in the way. I don’t want to resurrect it.”
“But he does?”
She blew out a big sigh. “For a bit of fun maybe, and to take his mind off his awful family. But not seriously, no. And I’m not up for that because I need to go and see all the places Mom and Dad dreamed of and never got to.”
“You and Nick?” It was asked cautiously.
“Years ago, and it was never anything much. I mean—it was never anything at all, but it could have been if I was older.”
Damn, this isn’t sounding the way I meant it to.
“I didn’t even recognize him on Monday,” she added. “He’s changed a heap.”
“Always gorgeous, I bet.”
“At sixteen? Nowhere near as tall or ripped as he is now. No manners. But fascinating in a brooding, angry sort of way.”
“Still is.”
“Maybe.” She picked up a pen from the desk and continued briskly, “But I can’t stay at BodyWork or it’ll blow up in my face. I’ve been looking at the batch of CVs that included Julie’s. Was there anyone else useful?”
Tyler squawked with alarm. “Don’t even think about it. No, there wasn’t. Nick and I interviewed all five. The two next best looked good on paper but had no personalities. You need a bit of bounce to front that place.”
“So I’d better get another temp?”
“‘Fraid so.
Sammie decided a change
of subject was called for. “Does your beautiful daughter have a name yet?”
“No, we’re getting nowhere,” Tyler said, adding a happy laugh. “I like Georgia, Cam likes Sophie, and Mom’s holding out for Charlotte.”
Another voice became audible in the background.
“Do you have visitors?”
“Only Mom—just arrived.”
“I’ll get back to work then,” she said, grateful for the excuse to conclude the conversation.
Her mobile beeped from the top drawer of her desk.
MISS U.
She buried her face in her hands, not wanting him to miss her, or text her, or make this any harder than it already was. Her pulse had speeded up with just that tiny contact. Poor, silly pulse.
Dinner went well and the boys invented games for Zorro which involved string and stalking and chasing after pieces of kibble.
“Can we have a cat, Mom?” Charlie begged.
“I want a dog,” Josh wheedled.
“Well, maybe we could think about a nice little poodle now we’re not in New York?”
“Mo-om!” the boys chorused, outraged.
Ray grinned at their reaction. “A big woofy black Labrador?”
“Yay, Dad!”
“Really, Ray.”
Sammie watched, and listened and laughed. With Ray being ten years older, she’d never had brothers or sisters to interact with like this. Never been part of a normal family team. It seemed she’d found one right as she planned to leave them behind.
“I’m starting my Pilates tomorrow,” Anita confided. “Eleven o’clock. Just a long T-shirt and some leggings, Heidi said. Is that what they all wear? No tracksuits?”
Sammie recalled the obviously new cream one Anita had bought. “You can wear a trackie to and from the fitness center, but you won’t want it for the class. Some of them look like they’ve dressed out of the rag-bag.” She registered Anita’s disappointed expression and added, “You only need to be comfortable. Lycra leggings and a big T-shirt until you’re in good shape, and then you can wow them all in a little sports-bra top.”
“Oh, well, I don’t know about that,” Anita said, turning pink and contemplating the final picture.
Ray cleared his throat, possibly doing the same.
Once her visitors had left, Sammie ripped the discolored tape off one of the boxes she’d brought up from the car—the one labeled ‘diaries’. They’d been packed for years, ever since the orchard days. Grandma had regularly documented her life, but until now, Sammie hadn’t felt free to read the results. Tonight she had time on her hands and a yearning to know more about family things.
She presumed Grandpa had packed them away years ago. Like everything he did, they were all in order. The oldest sat on top, just waiting for her. Kicking off her shoes, she settled down on the sofa.
She opened the red leather cover and smiled at her grandmother’s careful loopy handwriting—the same writing that had graced every birthday card of her first sixteen years.
December 9th 1950. Yesterday I married my dear Erik. He looked so handsome in his wedding suit. Tall and fair and absolutely Swedish. We are driving up to the Bay of Islands for our honeymoon. Tonight we are in the Grand Hotel in Auckland. I’m sitting on our bed writing this, no doubt crushing the olive green chenille spread.
It was easy to picture the old-fashioned room—probably with the shiny woodgrain Formica furniture that would have been all the rage then. Sammie adjusted the cushions to make a more comfortable nest and sank happily into the past.
January 14th 1953. After many disappointments, I am finally to be a mother. Erik hopes for a boy of course, but we shall have to wait and see who God sends us.
She read on about the antenatal check-ups, other friends who were also pregnant. Grandpa’s tender care.
September 5th 1953. Penelope Jane arrived a little early but healthy. The doctors seem concerned about my blood loss, but nothing can diminish the joy I feel now I hold my own babe in my arms.
Sammie smiled at her happiness. And wondered if this was the start of Grandma’s continuing indifferent health. But finally she might know more about her mother. The things she would have liked to ask about, and been robbed of at fifteen, could be here.
March 19th 1965. Penny has joined the Girl Guides. She is growing into a tomboy and I hope the female company will be helpful for her.
Nope, didn’t work. Her Mom had always worked side by side with her Dad. They were practically joined at the hip. If there were trees to be felled or planks to be painted—or a boat to be built—Mom was there doing it too. Her parents had been best friends as well as husband and wife, and Sammie had known she was never quite part of their golden partnership.
She yawned and glanced at her watch. After eleven! She’d been so fascinated reading about her grandparents’ first fifteen years of marriage and her mother’s early life that her sense of time had deserted her. She peered into the box. There were still plenty of diaries left.
‘Thank you Grandma,’ she whispered as she rose and went to undress for bed.
Her mobile beeped.
CAN I CALL BY.
So he’d landed, and wanted to play?
She ignored it for a few minutes, but then panicked in case he simply turned up at the door.
NO, she texted back, heart in her throat, hating him for making her act so hard hearted. Hating herself for turning him down.
She arrived at work at eight-thirty next morning, armored in jeans and the polo shirt she’d worn on her first day, determined to broach the subject of her replacement. The early Step class panted and pounded behind the glass, bright T’s splotched with perspiration. She hurried through to the staff room, stowed her bag and jacket away, and set the coffee machine going. Nick’s door was shut. A confidential phone call? Or hadn’t he arrived yet?
The moment she sat down at her desk an email dinged through.
‘Samantha.’
So he was there. ‘I have coffee on,’ she emailed back.
It didn’t take long for his reply. ‘Need you now.’
She expelled her breath and rubbed her suddenly itchy neck as she rose. This wasn’t going to be easy.
The handle turned under her damp palm, the door opened, and the hinges gave a long slow squeal. Nick seemed to be nowhere in sight.
She took two uncertain steps into his office. “Nick?”