The Candidate (6 page)

‘Hey.’ He reached for her hand. ‘You don’t need to apologise. It was my fault. I should have given you some warning.’

‘Yes, I do need to.’ Ginny was adamant. ‘Especially now that I know what you’re doing. What you’re really doing.’ She gave him a wry grin and gently shook his fingers. ‘I know you don’t have a lot of time. A lot of … room. So thanks. And sorry.’

It was like a fish hook, Mac found himself thinking. Sharp. Entrenched. ‘You don’t need to apologise,’ he repeated.

Ginny looked briefly away, then directly at him. ‘If we’re not going to see a lot of each other, I don’t want any bullshit between us, Mac. I need to apologise for the time before that, too. At the bar. I didn’t … um … handle that very well either.’

‘Neither did I,’ Mac said softly.

‘Okay,’ she nodded slowly. ‘So tonight then? You’ll be there?’ She was still holding his hand.

Mac leant in, kissed her cheek. Same perfume, he thought. ‘Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.’ He let go first.

But he did miss it. Ginny arrived with the others, and waited for him. But he didn’t come. Halfway through her meal a text arrived:
Sorry Ginny, got to head out a bit earlier. Have a good night. Thanks for the coffee. M x

She sighed, disappointed. She’d been looking forward to more time with him. But maybe his life was too firmly elsewhere now. Squaring her shoulders, saying a silent prayer that he come back safe, she smiled across the table at Madeleine, whose eyebrows were raised in a silent ‘Are you alright?’

Ginny lifted her glass, smiled, and toasted her friend.

Seventy-two hours after he’d unwillingly stood Ginny up at dinner, Mac grinned at his very good mate and fellow NZSAS soldier Nick Scott. From inside the plane the engines roared, and he had to strain to hear what Nick was shouting at him.

‘So, did you see her?’

‘Who?’

‘Don’t be so fucking coy. Did you see her?’

‘Yeah, we had a coffee.’

‘Is that what you call it up in Auckland? Coffee?!’

Mac laughed. ‘No, mate, you’ve got it all wrong. We’re just friends. How about you? See the lovely Philippa on your days free?’

‘Hell, yes, I did. Every square inch of her. Several times.’ Nick shot him a grin. ‘Jealous?’

‘I’d be stupid to be jealous of another man for catching up with his fiancée.’

‘Yeah, well, I’ll give you that.’ Still grinning, Nick went back to the final check of his pack.

Nick was a bloody good mate; the best. The second son of a wool farmer from a big station that ran up into the Otago hills, he was happily engaged. Mac admired the way Nick was able to keep one foot in his NZSAS life, and the other so firmly in his life outside.

By comparison, Mac had been swallowed into the intense training of the unit, and once he was through the initial probationary period and could start to show his capability and commitment, the others in his unit quickly became his friends — family even. Although he felt some disquiet about how distant he was from his old life, he thrived on the intensity of his new job, and the deeper he got into life with NZSAS, the more certain he was that he’d made the right decision and that the sacrifices were worth it. Well, he thought wryly, most of them were.

Mac nodded to one of the British Special Forces guys they were teamed up with for this exercise. ‘Good to go,’ he said.

‘So.’ Nick shouldered his pack and ’chute as they moved down the transporter. ‘This friend of yours, she’s still under your skin then?’

‘I told you — we’re just friends. End of story.’

‘Bullshit! You’ve been a miserable son of a bitch since you’ve come back. I reckon you need to put a bit more work in.’

‘Fuck off, mate,’ Mac said good-naturedly, waiting for the signal to go.

‘Will do.’ Mock-saluting, Nick disappeared out of the plane.

Mac grinned; Nick had a way of telling it like it was. He moved to the back door, looked out, and leapt into the black below.

Chapter 4

The afternoon of interviewing had gone … well enough. Two of the candidates had been promising, and the last a complete waste of time. But two was enough for a shortlist and feeling motivated, Ginny stayed on at the office, wrote up reports for her client and emailed them off.

She spun her chair to look at the whiteboard where all her current and potential jobs were sketched out.

If it came through, the RK Investments and Strategy role would demand a lot of time, but with the long gap between invoices for that kind of project, she’d need other work to keep the bills ticking over. With Christmas around the corner she wanted a healthy end to the year, otherwise January and February would be uncomfortably tight.

Which reminded her: an established client had mentioned a possible vacancy and she should chase them up tomorrow. However, if she was going to make one business development call, she might as well do a few solid hours on the phone. She blocked out the next morning in her calendar.

Ginny groaned. It was a juggle, and she was fast getting to the point where Shine needed another consultant. To grow, she needed another pair of hands to help build business and bill clients. But she was hesitant, resistant even. She liked things as they were and people management had never been her forte. She’d have to think about it seriously though, and soon. But not now. She looked at her watch — getting on for six. If she hurried, she could make it for feeding time at the zoo.

Madeleine and Paul Bruce lived in a mouth-wateringly beautiful villa in the heart of Grey Lynn. It was a cracker: five big bedrooms, open-plan kitchen, two separate living areas, en suite … the works. However, despite the beauty of the house a lack of time had contributed to the understated shabbiness outside and organised chaos that often dominated indoors.

Bowling through the front door — Ginny didn’t bother knocking, particularly on nights like these — she headed straight to the back of the house where she could hear dinner was most definitely under way. In the kitchen, Molly, an eighteen-month old charmer with a head of golden curls, was smearing spaghetti bolognese on the tray of her highchair. As Ginny walked in Molly picked up a handful and dropped it onto the floor.

George, nearly four, was laughing out loud at his baby sister’s antics — and as a result getting more food on the table than in his mouth.

Madeleine was nowhere to be seen. Smart woman, Ginny thought.

‘Right, ratbags, what’s going on here?’ She dropped her bag on the breakfast bar.

‘Ginny!’ George rained food as he spoke.

‘Whoops! Finish your mouthful, buster, and then you can talk. And as for you, missy …’ Ginny snatched up paper towels. ‘I think you’d better start putting some of that into your mouth.’

‘Ginny? Is that you?’ Madeleine came rushing in. ‘I just had to get a bib for … oh, Christ!’ She took in the mess. ‘What are you two doing? Why can’t you even eat without trashing the place?’ Her voice was rising and the children looked at her warily.

Meticulously groomed before children, and once quite a clothes-horse, Mads always looked a bit frazzled these days. Her blonde hair was scraped back in a messy bun, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Once they might have been mistaken for smudged mascara — these days they signalled pure weariness. Her jeans hung off her and food and a rainbow of poster paint ran up the sides. Her T-shirt was clean, but probably not the one she’d put on that morning.

Ginny recognised the tone: Mads was escalating. Ginny grabbed the wine she’d picked up on her way over, twisted the cap off and sloshed a fair amount into a glass.

‘Mads, here.’ Ginny shoved the glass into her friend’s hand and propelled her through the open patio doors and over to a weathered Adirondack chair. ‘Sit. Drink.’

Back inside, Ginny gently closed the door and watched until Mads took a long sip. Her shoulders were still up around her ears with tension, but that would pass.

‘Okay then.’ She turned to the kids. ‘Who’s going to finish dinner first? There may be some ice cream in it.’

As they ate, she stacked the dishwasher and wiped down the surfaces. It wasn’t much, but if she could do it once or even twice a week, it took some of the load off.

She gave Molly and George small scoops of ice cream and, smiling at their delighted squeals, took the bottle outside and waved it at Madeleine.

‘Top-up?’

‘Yes, please.’ Mads held out her glass. ‘I’m a terrible mother. I always run out of patience. I’ve lost track of how often I’ve raised my voice at them this week. For no reason. They’re just being kids. I hate it. You’re a lifesaver.’

‘You’re not a terrible mother.’ Ginny knew the routine. ‘You’re flying solo nearly all the time, you have two small children and no family other than one friend from your old, hedonistic life who, thankfully, is able to bring you wine and relief on the odd occasion she’s not working.’ She smiled at Madeleine. ‘You stay out here and flagellate yourself a bit more while I get your delicious children ready for bed.’

Her brand-new suit wasn’t the best for bathing kids, nevertheless Ginny removed the jacket and waded in. Afterwards, she led the pyjamaed children to their considerably more relaxed mother.

‘Mummy!’ George launched himself onto Madeleine. Molly followed, using every ounce of strength and will to wriggle up after her brother.

Laughing, Madeleine stood up, a child on each hip. ‘Bed, you two. Kiss for Ginny.’

As they headed down the hallway, Ginny poured herself a glass of wine and took the chair next to Mads’, enjoying the immediate calm and quiet.

Twenty minutes later, Madeleine sat back down and plonked the open bottle between them. ‘Done,’ she sighed.

‘That was quick.’

‘Yep — neither of them had much of a sleep today. They’re knackered.’

‘Right. Paul back tomorrow?’

‘No, Friday, he says.’

‘Right,’ Ginny sipped at her wine.

‘I know we’re lucky, really lucky, that he has the job. After the redundancy …’ Mads shuddered. ‘Well, you know how scary it was. I just wish the friggin’ thing wasn’t in Sydney.’

Ginny put her hand on her friend’s arm as Mads closed her eyes and lay her head back.

‘Still worth it?’ Ginny asked, meaning the house, the nice new car in the driveway.

‘I don’t know — I’m less and less sure, but there aren’t many options for him. And the mortgage on this place is horrific.’

‘Thought any more about moving over? To Sydney?’

‘Not really. We talk about it but I just can’t face it. We want the kids to grow up here, at home, and it feels just a bit … I don’t know, final or something. It would be hard to get back once we had a house there, mortgage, kids at school … All that crap.’ Mads took another drink. ‘It’s okay, really it is. Just a long day. Thanks for coming over.’

‘No worries. Have you eaten? Pizza?’

‘No, and yes, please. I can’t for the life of me work out why you haven’t been snapped up. You’d make a great wife.’

‘No, thank you!’ Ginny laughed and went inside to order food.

Later, they sat in the lounge, finishing off the wine and picking at the last piece of pizza.

‘How’s work?’ Madeleine asked.

Ginny wrinkled her nose. ‘Okay. Busy, but good. I saw Miles today.’

‘How revolting for you. Did you kick him?’

‘No, tempting — as it always is.’ Ginny briefly explained the pitch, and how she had bumped into her ex on the way out.

‘God, I hope you win it from him!’

‘Yeah, me too. Regardless of getting it over Miles, it would be great to get the account, you know? For the business.’

‘Yeah, I do.’ Madeleine smiled, and they drank their wine in an easy, companionable silence.

‘How did the date go?’ Madeleine asked, and when Ginny frowned in confusion: ‘You know, Telco-man. Wasn’t that last Friday?’

‘Ha! Two weeks ago. Didn’t I tell you?’

‘No, but tell me now. You know I live vicariously through you, and anyway, as the self-appointed strategist on your love life it’s my duty to hear all the details. Gory or otherwise.’

‘Nothing to tell. He was a tool. I left after one drink.’

‘Oh. Really? How disappointing. What was wrong with him?’

‘Just the usual. Full of himself. Didn’t stop going on about how fabulously successful he was. Far too obvious that he thought a shag was a given.’

‘Sounds exactly like what you would have gone for once.’

Ginny shot her a look.

‘Oh, come on,’ Mads continued, reaching to give Ginny a friendly nudge. ‘You know it’s true — you used to have terrible taste in men. The worse they treated you, the better, right?’

‘Yeah, well … not anymore,’ Ginny grumbled lightly.

‘Exactly! You’re well and truly hitting your straps these days, Ginn. So, good riddance to Telco-man tosser!’ Madeleine paused. ‘Heard from Mac?’

‘No — but I don’t really expect to. Andrew and Jen haven’t heard from him so I — we — guess he must be off doing the real deal or … whatever.’ Ginny shifted in her seat. She was always a little uncomfortable when the subject of Mac came up. She didn’t often volunteer information about him, but Mads asked about him every few months.

‘Don’t you get a bit over the whole stepmother passing on info thing? Isn’t that a bit weird?’

‘Well, yeah, I guess. But, you know, that’s just how it works with Mac.’

‘Do you think he’ll come back? Eventually?’

‘Of course he will,’ Ginny said abruptly. ‘I mean, his dad and Jen are here. He’d have to come back for them, don’t you think?’

‘I guess so.’ Mads took a sip and studied Ginny as she did.

Needing to change the subject, Ginny got to her feet. ‘I’d better head off. I’ve got a pile of CVs to go through tonight.’

‘Oh, mate, you shouldn’t have bothered coming over if you had work to do!’

Ginny embraced her friend. ‘You lot are far more important.’ She collected her bag and jacket, and headed for the door. ‘Give me a call, okay? If you need anything.’

‘Sure, Ginny — thanks,’ Mads waved her off.

Chapter 5

As she drove the short distance back to the carpark and home, Ginny replayed her conversation with Madeleine. She thought back, tried to work out when she had last seen Mac. Was it last winter? No, it couldn’t be. But then that made it the year before! Nearly eighteen months ago. Where had that gone?

Ginny had been down at Ohakune with a new … acquaintance, taking advantage of a decent late-winter dump of snow and hoping to combine it with a bit of romance. Although time on the slopes had been great, and the company pleasant, Ginny had worked out pretty quickly that even fresh powder and brilliant blue skies weren’t going to infuse enough magic to get the sparks flying with the very polite, very tidy, but not very interesting, Stephen.

Thankfully, the relationship was new enough for her to insist on separate rooms, and he was far too much of a gentleman to make a play for more. They’d been out for a meal and a few drinks and, after a particularly long lull in the conversation, Ginny suggested another round. Insisting it was her shout, she left Stephen at the table.

As she moved toward the rowdy bar, she noticed a table of guys off to one side. They were loud, laughing and shouting good-naturedly. It was clear they’d been there for some time, and appeared to be a tight crew who were oblivious to the rest of the room. Including two women at the next table who were blatantly checking them out. And who wouldn’t? Ginny thought. There was a high incidence of very well-put-together male bodies. That lot wouldn’t stand for single rooms, gentlemen or not, she laughed to herself, realising that she wouldn’t either given half the chance. Ginny sighed. It had been a while, quite a while, since she’d had to contemplate room configuration.

Casting one more look at the group, momentarily wishing she wasn’t already on a date and no longer game enough to rock up to a group of strange men, she walked straight into someone, spilling drinks all over both of them.

‘Oh, shit — I’m so sorry. I should’ve been looking where I was going …’ She looked up. ‘Mac! What the hell are you doing here?’

He looked flabbergasted and, she quickly realised, quite hammered. She laughed at him and he squinted back.

‘Don’t tell me you don’t recognise me. It’s me, Ginny.’

‘Shit, Ginn, of course it’s you.’ Putting what was left of the drinks on the floor, he engulfed her in a big, hard hug. He grinned, picked up the empty vessels at his feet, and motioned her out of the main thoroughfare.

‘What are you doing here?’ He repeated her question.

‘Just getting a bit of snow. You?’

He gestured over his shoulder. ‘Mate’s stag weekend.’

‘Oh, fabulous!’

‘Yeah, it is. But the groom thinks the snow is a bit crap. He wouldn’t stop complaining so we came in here instead.’ Mac peered at his watch. ‘Shit — bloody ages ago. I’m a wee bit ploughed. Out of practice. You in town for long?’

‘No — I head back tomorrow, first thing. We’ve been here for a couple of nights already.’

‘Ah, bugger. It would be nice to see you when I’m not seeing two of you. This is our first night.’

‘Riiiight.’ She stopped herself from reminding him that he knew where she was, if he ever wanted to catch up. ‘Look, I’d better get going and let you get back to your mates.’

‘Nah, don’t do that. Come over and have a drink, meet the guys. You’ll love them.’

‘I can’t, Mac. I’m having dinner with someone.’

He stepped back, and gave her a closer look. ‘Of course you are, of course.’ Nodding, he looked away again, and was about to speak when another man joined them.

‘Mac, mate. Going to introduce me?’

‘Yeah, sure.’ Mac righted himself. ‘Ginny, Nick; Nick, Ginny.’

‘Ahhhh.’ Nick extended his hand. ‘The lovely Ginny. I’ve heard a lot about you. Pleasure to meet you.’

‘You too. I mean — to meet you. I haven’t heard a thing about you.’ She laughed slightly at her gaffe, and looked Nick over. A good head shorter than Mac, he was nevertheless powerfully built, with tight red-gold curls and, as far as she could tell, covered in freckles. He was looking at her mischievously and she couldn’t help smiling in return. He seemed like a decent bloke and it was obvious he and Mac were close.

Mac gave Nick a look. ‘No need to listen to a thing he says, Ginny. He’s the groom and even drunker than I am.’

‘Oh, congratulations! When’s the big day?’

‘Couple of weeks. Can’t wait.’ He nudged Mac. ‘I keep telling this one he needs the love of a good woman. Wouldn’t you agree?’

‘Sure,’ Ginny laughed. ‘Why not?’

Mac gave Nick another look. ‘I’ll be right over with the round. Just give me a couple of minutes. Ginny has to get moving.’

Ignoring him, Nick said to Ginny, ‘Where are you off to? Come and join the party.’

‘Thanks, Nick, but I’m having dinner with a friend, I’m meant to be getting drinks. He’ll be wondering where I am.’ She gestured and turned to see Stephen push his way through the crowd. ‘Oh, here he is.’

Wearing pressed trousers, an open-necked shirt, and a sleeveless jacket to complete the gentleman-at-snow look, Stephen’s get-up contrasted with the jeans and T-shirts of the other two. As did Stephen’s soft office form alongside Mac’s well-constructed body, Ginny found herself thinking. She’d forgotten how tall he was. Looking at him, she realised she was having trouble taking all of him in.

Mac leaned over to grip Stephen’s hand and gave it a hefty shake. ‘Good to meet you, mate.’

‘Likewise.’ Stephen winced slightly.

‘You’re not a shithead are you, mate?’ Mac pointed a finger at him.

‘Wha—’ Stephen blinked, and Ginny whacked Mac on the arm.

‘Mac! Stop it!’

‘It’s just that she has a thing for shitheads.’

‘Um, well, no — I don’t think so.’ Stephen turned to Ginny with a question on his face: was he a shithead?

‘Good, mate, good. What are you then?’ Mac peered down at him.

‘Um, I’m an actuary, actually.’

‘Ahhhh.’ Mac reared back, and took a hasty step to steady himself. Then said quietly, ‘Thought it might be something like that.’

He really is very drunk, Ginny thought.

‘And um … you?’ Stephen queried.

Mac and Nick exchanged looks. ‘Arborists, mate,’ Nick said. ‘We deal with trees.’

Ginny stared. ‘Trees?’ she said lamely.

Mac gave her a big grin. ‘Sure, Ginn — trees.’

‘Stop taking the piss, Mac.’

‘I’m not,’ he laughed. ‘You know that’s what I do.’

She shook her head, not enjoying being laughed at.

‘Oh, come on,’ Mac said. ‘Don’t be like that, Ginn.’ Then he bent down right up against her ear. ‘You want me to tell you what I really do?’

She nodded, very aware of his hand against her neck, thumb and forefinger touching her face. His breath was warm on her neck, and tickled right down her spine. She got a powerful hit of male.

‘Lickety-split, Ginn. Go in, get out. Blow shit up. That’s what I do.’

She stared as he stepped back. It was hard to reconcile — what he’d said with the person she thought she knew. Maybe she didn’t really know him anymore. It was time to go. Before she could make their excuses Mac spoke again.

‘Ginny. I’ve been meaning to ask you for bloody ages — what the hell is that perfume you wear?’

Ginny eyed him warily. ‘My perfume?’

‘Yeah, your perfume. What is it?’

‘Um … Amarige. Don’t you like it?’

‘Ama-what?’

‘—rige. Amarige.’

‘Right.’ He nodded to himself.

‘Don’t you like it?’ she asked again.

‘What? Like it?’ He bent down, breathed in. ‘I fucking love it. Gets me here, every time.’ He pounded a fist into his stomach.

He looked at Stephen. ‘What do you reckon, mate? Does it get you in the guts, too?’ And before Nick could stop him, Mac’s arm shot out and whacked Stephen square in the stomach. Stephen doubled over.

Ginny squealed and reached for him as he crumbled. ‘Mac! What was that for?’

‘Oh shit, sorry, mate.’ Mac wobbled down to Stephen, put out an arm and pulled him up. ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry. Come on, let me buy you a drink.’

‘Sure,’ Stephen wheezed. ‘That would be very kind.’

‘Ginny?’ Nick offered his arm.

She couldn’t very well say no, with Stephen — the injured party — already led away by Mac. She took Nick’s arm.

Stephen quickly embraced the new setting. Mac had discovered his penchant for gin and was buying him doubles. It was an eye-opener to see Stephen finally loosen up, and the impromptu party meant she didn’t have to endure dinner conversation with him.

Mac was on form, too, and it was good to get this glimpse of him: having a laugh, celebrating with his friends, his colleagues, Ginny had worked out. She sipped her drink, watching Mac across the table. He looked up and caught her eye. He started to make his way over when one of the women Ginny had noticed earlier, who by now had ingratiated themselves into the group, intercepted. She said something and Mac had to lean down to hear. Nodding, he took out his wallet, fished out a bill and handed it over. He took a long pull on his beer as he watched her walk towards the bar.

Ha, Ginny thought. Men. They’re so bloody predictable. She focused back on Stephen, who was grilling Nick about the arborist trade. Nick, to his credit, seemed incredibly well informed. Or he was well practised at making things up, Ginny laughed to herself. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to see Mac standing there.

‘Hi. What’s the joke?’

‘Just clueing up on life as an arborist.’

Mac grinned. ‘Nick is very good at spinning shit. You should have heard him when we were out for my thirtieth — he pinned us as orthodontists.’

She laughed. ‘Having a good night?’

‘I am indeed — very good in fact. It’s always great seeing you.’

‘It’s good to see you, too. And to see that you’re keeping such good company.’

‘Hell yeah, great group of guys. Specially Nick; he’s a real mate. My best mate.’ Mac looked at her quickly. ‘I mean, so are you, Ginn, it’s just, you know …’

She laughed. ‘No worries, Mac. You haven’t offended me. I understand I’m not as much fun. I don’t know how to blow shit up.’

He reached around and gave her ponytail a familiar tug. ‘That’s it. But I can teach you, if you like.’ He winked over his beer as he took another long drink.

She looked at him, pondering how odd the offer sounded, but also how kind of hot. It really has been a long time, she thought. Maybe she should take Stephen to bed after all.

‘Need another beer?’

Mac tried to hide a burp. ‘I probably shouldn’t, although I think I’ve pretty much drunk myself sober.’

On cue, the woman who had relieved him of his money came sauntering back. Shooting Ginny a look, she squeezed between the two of them, and handed Mac a fresh beer. Just his type, Ginny thought. All that blonde hair and tight clothes. Far too much make-up as far as she was concerned, but then it wasn’t really anything to do with her.

‘Here you go, sweetie,’ the woman said to Mac and Ginny cringed. ‘Your change is in my pocket. Wanna get it?’

Oh, for God’s sake.

Mac looked down at her, a lazy smile crossing his face. ‘Sure, why not.’ He reached behind and, bending down, slipped his hand into her pocket. Obviously sensing an opportunity worth exploiting, the blonde grabbed hold and locked on for a kiss.

Flustered, Ginny tried to move away, but was hemmed in. It was far too close for comfort, especially as Mac seemed to be enjoying himself so much. Didn’t he have to breathe at some stage? Lip-locked, he fumbled with his bottle, eventually finding the table. His freed hand clamped onto the woman’s bottom, pulling her to him.

Recognising the move, remembering it, Ginny felt nauseous. She quickly looked away, and saw Nick watching her.

‘Stephen, come on, let’s go.’ She pushed against him, suddenly wanting to put as much distance as possible between her and Mac.

‘But Ginny,’ Stephen replied messily, ‘we’ve only just got here.’

‘Fine,’ she snapped. ‘Stay. I’ve had enough, I’m going.’

She squeezed past him and made for the door when she felt a hand on her arm. Spinning around, ready for a fight, she saw it was Nick, hands up in mock surrender.

‘Whoa,’ he smiled. ‘I come in peace. Just checking you’re alright? You went a bit pale back there. Feeling okay?’

Ginny pinched the bridge of her nose, startled by the hot prick of tears. ‘Yes, I’m fine. Just tired.’ She smiled. ‘I’ll leave you lads to it. Great to meet you. Enjoy your trip, and congratulations again.’

She turned to go.

‘He’s a free agent, you know.’

She faced him again. ‘Who, Mac? I know that.’

Nick nodded. ‘Sure — just checking.’ He raised a hand in farewell. ‘Great to meet you at last.’

She watched him walk back to the noisy end of the bar. The bloody cheek, she thought angrily. Not wanting to think too hard about what that sick feeling might mean, or why she suddenly felt like crying, she stepped out into the hard, cold winter night.

Back at her flat after her evening with Madeleine and the kids, Ginny frowned at the memory as she changed into her PJs. She collected her cup of tea and settled herself on the couch with the pile of CVs. The night at Ohakune had been very odd. She’d received a call from Mac the following day, sheepish and apologetic for ruining such a chance to catch up by scoring.

She had been halfway back to Auckland by then, and had laughed it off. The funny feeling had passed. Good luck to you, she had said.

And that had been it. She hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him since. Random night, random friend. Shaking her head to clear the memory she took a sip of tea, and went to work.