“Welcome to Christchurch,” he says, smiling broadly and taking my suitcase from me. “Is it your first time here?”
“Yes,” I say, smiling back.
“Well, let’s hope it’s not your last.”
He introduces himself as Bill, and on the one-hour drive to Akaroa, he tells me he has a cousin who lives there. For a moment, I almost ask him if he’s heard of a Carl Hunter but decide against it. Instead, I let him tell me what I already know from the guidebook I bought, that Akaroa was New Zealand’s first and only French settlement. He tells me about the beach at French Bay, the harbor and the wharf, and when he asks me about myself, I make up a life I’d like to have, a life where I’m taking a year off before starting my master’s, a life where I have parents waiting for me back in the UK, and friends in Australia who I’m going to meet up with at some point.
By the time we get to Akaroa, jet lag has caught up with me and I can’t wait to get to bed. We pull up in front of a small building; Bill wheels my suitcase inside and leaves me to check in. The lady at the reception desk, who introduces herself as Glenda, is warm and friendly, and as we climb the stairs to my apartment, I give her the same story as I gave Bill.
The apartment is lovely. As well as the bedroom and bathroom, there’s a large room with sofas, a table, chairs, and a kitchen area. There’s also a balcony overlooking the sea.
“There’s milk and butter in the fridge, tea, coffee, and bread in the cupboards, along with a few other bits and pieces,” Glenda says.
“Thank you,” I say, looking gratefully at a bowl piled with kiwis, mandarins, apples, and avocados. “That’s so kind.”
“You’re welcome. If you need anything, just shout.”
I shower, get into bed, because it’s the middle of the night in England, and fall asleep wondering why Carl made the long and exhausting journey from New Zealand to go to a memorial service for two young women he didn’t know.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I give myself two days to get over my jet lag and use them to get my bearings, walking around Akaroa or along the beach at French Bay, taking in the beautiful scenery, breathing in the fresh sea air but always, always, watching for Carl. I still don’t have a plan and I need to make one. But if I see him, I’ll do what I did last time, and follow him.
I wait for Glenda to have one of her quiet moments, after guests have checked out and before new ones check in, then head to the reception area.
“How are you today?” she asks, as I approach the desk.
“I’m fine, thank you. It’s so beautiful here, so relaxing.”
“It sure is. And the weather’s pretty good for this time of the year.” She leans on the counter, ready for a chat. “Got anything nice planned for today?”
“Well, I’m supposed to be trying to find some people my parents used to know back in England. Apparently, they immigrated to Akaroa, and my parents lost touch with them. They made me promise to try and find them while I was here.” I give a theatrical sigh. “I’m not sure how I’m meant to do that without an address.”
“Do you have a name?”
“Yes, Hunter.”
She nods. “There’s a guy having a house built up in the hills back there,” she says, indicating somewhere behind the building. “I think his name’s Hunter. But I’m not sure he’s of your parents’ generation, I heard mid-thirties. And he lived in the UK until a few months ago, so he’s probably not who you’re looking for.”
I take a step back, certain she can hear my heart crashing in my chest. He sounds like exactly who I’m looking for.
“No, that doesn’t fit,” I say. “My parents are in their fifties and this couple emigrated years ago.” I’m so shocked that I barely know what I’m saying.
“He could be a son or something.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think they had children, my parents didn’t say they had.” My mind fast-forwards, thinking what I can ask without it looking suspicious. “A house in the hills, that must be nice. Quite a hike from here, though, I imagine.”
“Not that far. If it’s where I’m thinking it is, somewhere on the way to the peak, you could get up there on foot in about an hour.”
“Really? Gosh, it sounds like the perfect place.”
“You could go up there, try and speak to him. He’s a bit of a loner, by all accounts.”
“No, I won’t bother, it can’t be the same family. At least I can tell my parents I tried. In fact, I’ll call them now, they’ll still be up, they go to bed late.” I move away before she can ask any more questions.