Strange Sally Diamond(50)

On the property adjoining ours, there was a boy who looked a few years older than me. He drove his own truck. I was fascinated. I could see him from my window and, when Dad was at work, I would spend time hanging around the adjoining fence, eager for some communication. As far as I could see, he lived with his mother. They went out early in the morning and he would come home in the afternoon, and then she would be dropped off around 9 p.m., later at the weekends. When he came home from school, he booted a rugby ball around his yard and tended to chickens I could hear from a coop on the other side of his property.

I watched my neighbour and concluded there was something gentle about him. He was poor, judging by his clothing and home, but I could hear him speak to his mother. And he was respectful of her. She seemed old. I then wondered if she was his grandmother.

Now that I was older, I was beginning to question the way Dad spoke about women. New Zealand had been the first country in the world to give women voting rights, a fact that enraged Dad when I told him. When I talked about the old lady next door, he closed his eyes until I stopped speaking of her. There were certain subjects that were off limits to Dad and that was how he expressed it. He shut his eyes to shut down the subject.

I wondered about my mother and sister in the room next door, years previously. I remembered kicking her pregnant belly. That could not have been right, even though Dad had encouraged me. If he was right about everything, why were we living with new histories and new names on the other side of the world?

Yet, my mother must have been the problem. He was my dad, he looked after me, he never raised his hand to me. I had seen evidence of my mother’s madness and aggression. I had once asked him when my sister was a baby why he didn’t take her and leave her on the church steps, but he said it was an act of charity to let her stay with Denise. ‘She is all she has,’ he said. ‘I’m not so cruel that I would separate them. It was bad enough when I took you from her, I couldn’t do it to her again.’ Dad obviously had a kind heart.





31


Sally


Mark phoned me a few days after the cafe incident. I reminded him that I had asked him a question before Caroline’s interruption.

‘Why are you so interested in me?’

‘Well, it’s sort of complicated, but I would like to be your friend, to look out for you. I don’t feel sorry for you, but I don’t want to give the wrong impression either.’

‘What’s complicated about that?’ I voiced my suspicion. ‘Are you a journalist?’

‘God no, I’m an accountant, and I’m new to town. I find you fascinating, your history. Did I do something or say something?’

‘You asked about my relationship history. My therapist thought you might be interested in a relationship with me.’

‘There is someone I’m interested in, but it’s early days and I’m afraid I might screw it up. You remember Anubha?’

I breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Anubha seems lovely and you’re both divorced. You should ask her on a date.’

‘I’d like to but, technically, I’m her boss, so it could seem like workplace harassment.’

‘Maybe she’s waiting for you to ask her out? She has two children, so she probably likes sex.’

He laughed. I was irked.

‘I wasn’t joking. She seems nice.’

‘She is.’

‘But why did you ask to meet me for coffee?’

‘I wanted you to know that I wasn’t uncomfortable about our conversation at Martha’s party. Can’t we be friends?’

I agreed to try it.

‘I think you should be careful, Mark. Even if she does like you, her children might not.’

‘You’d make a good agony aunt.’

‘Does it pay well?’

‘Not really.’

‘I’m still looking for a job.’

‘There’s got to be something you can do. Would you like me to ask around at Mervyn Park?’

‘Yes please. Mark?’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m angry about my birth father. The police have found no trace of him in New Zealand. Nobody knows where he is now.’

There was a pause.

‘May I come to your house?’ he asked.

‘Why?’

‘It’s easier to talk face to face, especially about him.’

‘Okay, come for dinner. I’ll make spicy shepherd’s pie. About six?’

‘Great.’

‘It’s not a dinner party, though, okay?’

He laughed. ‘It’s not a date either, okay?’

I laughed.

Mark came over after work and I brought him up to date with how Toby had led us to New Zealand. ‘Toby?’ he said, alert. I explained about the bear. He asked if we could use Dad’s computer to look up the New Zealand newspaper coverage. We pored over page after page, photofits and 3D models of what Conor Geary might look like now. There was nothing in the news reports that Detective Inspector Howard hadn’t already told me. Mark’s demeanour was grim. ‘I saw the renewed appeal at the time but I didn’t know it was connected to Toby. Are you sure you don’t remember anything about him, about that time in captivity?’

‘No, don’t you think I’d help catch him if I could? Denise hardly spoke of him either.’