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“I’ll be twenty-seven in a few weeks. I’m moving into a retirement home next month.” She laughs, and I smile. “I’m glad you’re not upset anymore. He’s not worth it.”
“No,” she says firmly, “you’re right. He isn’t.” She hesitates and tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I know it’s ridiculous, but I was starting to miss him. I’m kind of glad this happened. I’m definitely not getting back with him now.”
“I’m pleased to hear it. I didn’t want to have to handcuff you to the steering wheel.”
She’s quiet for a second, and when I glance at her, her eyebrows have risen, and her face is alight with humor. “Damon Chevalier,” she taunts, “I never knew you were so kinky.”
“I meant to stop you going back to him,” I scold. “Only you would get turned on at the thought of being handcuffed to a car.”
An image of her naked, chained to the steering wheel and sitting astride me, springs into my mind. Uh-oh, best not to think about Belle Winters and sex in the same sentence.
“So how’s your course going?” I ask, trying to distract myself. “You’re doing law, right?”
“Yeah. I hate it with the intensity of a thousand suns,” she says cheerfully.
I look at her in surprise. “Seriously?”
“Yep. But Mum said she’d only pay for my degree if I did something ‘worthwhile.’” She puts air quotes around the word. “And I hate the idea of being a doctor even more than being a lawyer.”
“Couldn’t you talk her around?”
“You know what Mum’s like,” she says, and looks away, out of the window.
Kaitlyn Cross—she never took her husband’s surname of Winters—made a name for herself in romcom movies, and I’m sure she’s a multi-millionaire, if not a billionaire, by now. She’s also a right piece of work. Why she ever married the quiet, rather ordinary Mason Winters, I’ll never know. They divorced when Alex was in his final year of high school, so Belle would have been around twelve. Kaitlyn moved to L.A., and Mason, who was originally from Christchurch, went back south with his girls. Alex stayed in Wellington and went to Victoria University with me, although he’s since moved back to Christchurch. Mason has now met and married a lovely woman called Sherry, and he seems much happier than he was with the prickly, selfish Kaitlyn.
Gaby has learned to handle her mother, and to say what Kaitlyn wants to hear, even though she often does the opposite behind her back. But Belle’s too soft to confront her mother head on, and too honest to lie to her, and she’s sensitive enough that Kaitlyn’s criticism regularly hurts her feelings. I’ve seen her face fall several times when her mother has been harsh with her, so I can see why she’s not been able to stand up to her in this instance.
It’s a cheek though that Kaitlyn insisted Belle do law or medicine, as if she herself is a rocket scientist. I’d have thought that because she was involved in the arts, she’d have encouraged her children to follow their dreams, but I know she told Alex and Gaby the same about only paying for their degrees if they did certain subjects. Luckily, Alex has only ever been interested in computers, and that met with Kaitlyn’s approval. Likewise, Gaby wanted to be a teacher, so she didn’t run into any opposition. It’s obviously only Belle who’s struggled.
It would be easy to criticize her for not choosing a major she felt passionate about and paying for it herself like most people do, but I know the majority of students in New Zealand graduate upwards of fifty thousand dollars in debt, and I can’t blame anyone for wanting to avoid starting adult life without huge loans. Mason’s not really in a position to help her financially, either. As far as I know, when he walked out of the marriage, he refused to take a cent of Kaitlyn’s vast wealth, and only accepted child support from her. He’s a teacher at the local high school, so I don’t imagine he has the money to give Belle the freedom to study whatever she wants.
“Sometimes I wish I’d been braver and done something different,” Belle admits. “When I’m sitting there trying to learn the development of social policy and its importance in court decisions and law reform, I think I’d much rather be thousands in debt but doing something fun.”
“I get that. What would you have studied, if you’d been able to choose?”
“Actually, I probably wouldn’t have gone to uni at all. I’d rather have gotten a job, but Mum would never have agreed to that.”
“What kind of job would you have liked?”
“Well, I am working now doing something I enjoy, so I’d probably do that full time.”
“Oh, what do you do?”
“It’s a secret. I might tell you later. I’ll see how I feel.”
“Is it connected with the boxes on the back seat?”
“Yeah,” she admits mysteriously.
There’s no time to press her more, though, because we’ve arrived at the ferry, and the line of cars is already boarding. We check in, then slot the Jag into its space on the boat. Leaving her case and boxes in the car, we lock it and head up to the premium lounge.
We both had lunch before we left, but we go over to the buffet and help ourselves to a Danish pastry and order a couple of lattes, then take them back to two seats by the window and make ourselves comfortable. The ferry is already pulling out of the harbor, heading for the Cook Strait that separates the North and South Islands and connects the Tasman Sea to the northwest and the South Pacific Ocean to the southeast.
Belle curls up in her seat, pulls pieces off her Danish, and pops them in her mouth. I can smell her perfume—something light and flowery, making me think of lying in bed on a lazy summer afternoon, half-covered by a sheet, the warm breeze from the open doors blowing across our skin.
I blink. Steady on, Damon.
I’ve been very careful to do my best to avoid thinking about Belle in that way. It was easier when she was a kid, but it got tougher once she became a teenager. I can remember going to stay with Alex and his family in Christchurch one summer when we were at university. She must have been about fourteen. I hadn’t seen her for a year. She arrived late, and I can still remember the shock I felt, sharp and sudden as a bee sting, when I came out of the water and saw her standing on the sand. She was wearing a fuchsia-pink bikini, and she had curves where she’d never had any before. She was staring at me, too, eyes wide.
