During the long days while he was at work, I explored our new territory. Our land wasn’t fenced at the back, and it was three weeks before I discovered that there were natural hot springs about two miles back under a sharp cliff edge. I was nervous about testing my skin in such water, but when I told Dad, he was as excited as I was. We set off on a cold May day and swam in the hot rock pool before cooling off in the cold-water lake beside it. This was so much better than the beach back in Ireland. The water had no detrimental effect on my skin. Dad and I often went there at the weekends after that, summer and winter.
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.’
‘How do you know?’
‘It’s all in my dad’s notes.’
‘What notes?’
I explained about Dad’s diaries and medical notes.
‘May I see them?’
‘Why?’
‘I want to help you, Sally.’
‘I don’t think that’s appropriate. I don’t need your help. I can read perfectly well. They’re the private medical records of my birth mother and me.’
‘But, you know, a fresh eye might see something that you missed. I could look at them more dispassionately?’
‘There is almost nothing about Conor Geary in there.’
‘But maybe there are clues?’
‘There are no clues.’
‘But how do you know? You have a literal mind. I might be able to see some subtlety that you missed.’
His persistence infuriated me.
‘The guards have copies. They have investigated them thoroughly. Angela, my doctor and friend, has been through them with me. Mark, can you leave now, please? Your manner is making me uncomfortable.’
His smiley demeanour had disappeared. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but seemed to stop himself. Now, he was suddenly contrite.
‘God, I’m so sorry. I get carried away. This case was such huge news in my childhood.’
‘Everyone says that.’