Page 72 of Coming Home to Sturcombe Bay
The dinner had lived up to the promise of their surroundings. Cassie had wild mushrooms with rosemary and pine nuts, followed by a delicious tagine of lamb cutlets with cumin and tomatoes. She had watched in amusement as Dougie had demolished a large steak. He asked for it “still on the hoof, mate,” and that was what he had got.
“That looks good,” she had remarked, laughing.
“It’s bonzer! Yours okay?”
“Bonzer,” she concurred.
Now Dougie was still down in the bar, having encountered a couple of fellow Aussies — he’d probably be there for a couple of hours yet, then still be able to wake full of energy to continue their sightseeing in the morning.
But she hadn’t been able to sleep. After tossing restlessly for a while she had slipped out of bed, pulled on the hotel’s plush robe, and come out onto the balcony to see if a little fresh air would help.
There was quite a view from up here. In the distance, the jagged geometric shapes of the City’s business fortresses were lit up against the ink-dark sky. A little further to the right, the great circle of the London Eye glowed an eerie purple.
She’d only been to London once, on a school trip. They’d visited the British Museum and the Tate Gallery, neither of which she had found particularly interesting. They’d stayed in a Youth Hostel, sleeping in dormitories on metal bunk beds with thin, hard mattresses.
She’d known then that she could never live in a city. Millions of people, millions of buildings — though she was high above it, it gave her a kind of claustrophobia. She needed air, space, the wide never-ending sea.
Her mind went back to her conversation with Dougie over dinner.
“I’m thinking of opening a new ski resort up at Ruapehu. That’s why I came over to London — to talk to a few people about marketing. Jimmy’s going to manage it — and I want you to take over as manager at Te Awaiti.”
“Manager?”
“Sure. You’d be great. You know the business, you’re great with people. What do you say?”
“I . . . I’d have to think about it. There’s my work visa . . .”
“You could apply for permanent residency. Even New Zealand citizenship.”
She hesitated, moving a mushroom around her plate with her fork. “Yes, I suppose I could. I don’t know . . .”
It was tempting. Dougie was an excellent boss — he paid well, and he was prone to throw parties or surprise his staff with treats. He didn’t interfere or try to micromanage, but he would always back you up if you needed it.
Yes, it was tempting. Standing on the balcony with the hotel’s dressing gown wrapped around her, she tried to convince herself that she would be a fool to pass up such a fantastic offer. She loved New Zealand, with its stunning scenery and its warm, friendly people.
But it wasn’t home.
Sturcombe was home. Quiet, pretty Sturcombe, which she had spent the first eighteen years of her life longing to escape from. Since she had come back, it had become harder and harder to think about leaving again.
The sky was inky dark, the stars dimmed by the competing light of the street lamps. A crescent moon hung low over the roofs of the great metropolis like something out of a children’s story book. She could almost imagine Mary Poppins sailing past under her umbrella.
The same moon would be hanging over Sturcombe. Would Liam be looking up at it right now? Maybe just fleetingly thinking of her? Of how they used to walk on the beach beside the tranquil water of the bay, the waves whispering over the sand, a soft warm breeze drifting in to ruffle their hair.
With a small sigh she turned and walked back into the suite. Her return ticket was dated for two weeks’ time, and she still hadn’t made up her mind whether she was going to use it. But whether she stayed or left, she couldn’t add Liam into the equation.
* * *
“There.” Liam closed the book. “Wasn’t Bets clever to work out where the stolen necklace was hidden?” He smiled down at his little daughter, tucked up beneath her pink duvet. She was growing — soon she was going to need a bigger bed.
“She’s the very cleverest of all of them.”
“She is. And it’s off to sleep for you now.”
“Mmm . . .” She snuggled down under the pink duvet. “Daddy, Noah said Auntie Cassie has gone away. Why did she go away?”
He hesitated, forcing his voice past the catch in his throat. “I expect she’s gone on holiday, sweetheart.”
“Oh.” Her little lower lip was trembling. “She didn’t say bye-bye to me.”
