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Still no message or calls from Alice, but there are a few others waiting for me. The first is from Damon.Hey bro, I left around two a.m. once you stopped throwing up. Take the Panadol and drink the orange juice, then go apologize to Saxon and Catie and I’m sure you’ll feel better. D
The second is from my father.I’d like to see you here at eleven a.m., kiddo. Make sure you’re not over the limit. Dad x
He hasn’t called me kiddo for years. It’s obviously a reflection of my behavior last night.
The third and fourth are from Saxon. The third, sent early this morning, just says:You’re a twat,with the middle finger emoji. I give a short laugh. The fourth says:Hope you’re feeling better today.
I look at the bedside table—Damon’s left a glass of orange juice and a pack of Panadol. I pop two out of it and drink the whole glass of juice. Then I get up and take a shower.
I stand under the water for a long time, thinking. Not so much about Alice—that wound is too raw and painful—but about my brother’s insightful comments regarding Craig. That he’s envious of my relationship with my brothers because his father is an arsehole, and he doesn’t have any brothers. That he admires me, and obviously thought we were close, and is disappointed that my relationship with my brothers will always be special.
It doesn’t excuse his affair, or his behavior toward me and the others in the office. But maybe it does explain it. And after last night, I’m the last person who can get on their high horse where good behavior is concerned.
After turning off the water, I get out and dry myself. Then I stand in front of the mirror and examine my face. My right cheekbone has swollen, and the skin under my right eye is already bruising up. It’ll be black in a day or two.
I wonder what Saxon looks like. In the past, I’d have smiled at the thought, but today I feel sick to my stomach. We’re grown men, and I hit him in front of our parents and, more importantly, in front of his wife and children. All right, they’re only babies and they won’t remember it, but that’s not the point. It obviously upset Catie, and I feel terrible about that. Saxon has spent months trying to give her a stable, secure lifestyle after the horrifying things she’s been through. I think of that God-awful day when I waited outside her apartment until Saxon could come and rescue her, and how fragile she looked. The thought that I’ve distressed her, even in a small way, makes me feel about an inch high.
I go into the walk-in wardrobe, pull on my jeans, and take out a plain white T-shirt. It reminds me of Alice wearing it, and I hesitate, then pull it on. It’s only then that my gaze falls on the dressing table, and I see the gifts I meant to give Saxon and Catie last night. Guilt floods me once again. I completely forgot about them. I’ll take them with me today as a peace offering. I’m not sure if Catie will be there, but Saxon can take them home for her.
Bringing them with me upstairs, I leave them on the kitchen counter and decide I should have some breakfast. Technically I should make myself a fry-up to combat the alcohol, but my stomach’s still a little uneasy, so instead I have a bowl of cereal with fresh fruit and a large, strong coffee, and take them out on the deck to eat.
I’ve just sat down when my phone rings. My heart leaps for a second, and then I see the number and realize it’s Marion, my PA. Surprised, as it’s Easter Monday and I know she’s gone away with her husband, I answer it, “Hello!”
“Good morning,” she says. “I’m so sorry to bother you at home.”
“Hey, it’s fine. Everything okay?”
“Oh yes, it’s just that I check the general office voicemail a couple times a day, and there was a call on there from late last night that I thought you should know about.”
“Oh?”
“It was from Penelope Liddell.”
For a second I don’t recall the name, and then it comes to me. “It’s Alice’s mother. What did she say?”
“I can give you the voicemail number so you can listen to the message yourself, if you like, but I wrote it down in shorthand exactly as she said it so I could save you some time and read it to you.”
“Please.”
“She said, ‘Good evening, my name is Penelope Liddell. I would like to leave a message for Mr. Chevalier please, sorry I mean Mr. Kristopher Chevalier. I know it’s Easter Monday tomorrow, and so I don’t know if he’ll get this in time, but would he please be able to call me on my mobile between one and two p.m.? If he doesn’t get this, then maybe he could do the same on Tuesday instead.’” Marion reads out Penny’s number, and I program it into my phone.
“Thank you,” I say. “I really appreciate you taking the time to do that.”
“Of course, no worries. Is… everything all right?”
I’ve known Marion for five years, and, like any good PA, she’s more than a secretary. She practically runs my life for me, and she’s been a good friend, nursing me through my breakup with Lesley by bringing me healthy food and bullying me to go to the gym and not just sit around moping and eating donuts.
“Alice broke up with me,” I say softly. “She wants her sister to go with her boyfriend to Auckland, which means she won’t be around to share the care of her mother, and she thinks that means we don’t have a future together.”
“Aw, Kip. You’re not going to give up on her, though, are you?”
I smile. “I’m guessing her mother’s going to ask me the same thing. I’ll let you know tomorrow.”
“All right. Good luck.”
“Are you having a nice weekend away?”
“Lovely, thank you. The Coromandel is so gorgeous at this time of year. See you tomorrow.”
