Back to anatori, p.19
Back to Anatori, page 19
“Yeah, I noticed that, last time I walked past your place when it rained heavily. Would you like me to come around and see what needs to be done?”
“That would be very kind of you. I don’t have a ladder. I was going to ask if I could borrow one from you.”
“Sure. I think the rain will ease this afternoon. I’ll be around about four o’clock. Business goes pretty quiet about then. I’ll shut the shop early.”
Joe came, punctually, at four o’clock, bringing his ladder. Bridget watched him climb up and held the ladder as he investigated the gutters. Two of them just had the drain-holes plugged full with leaves and moss and were cleared easily. Two others had leaking joints. He told her he could try to fix the leaks with some plastic gutter cement, but recommended that the whole gutter be replaced.
“Joints never last,” he stated with that tone of certainty and pride of ‘knowing’ that men always seem to be so pleased to display in front of women who have called on them for practical help. Bridget was aware that she quite liked this. It made her feel she was ‘protected’ and ‘looked after’, even though she knew very well that she could have done all of this herself, if she had owned a ladder. She was a little alarmed when she realised that she felt that it would actually feel quite nice to have that energy around her every day. But what would be the point of starting a relationship if she had cancer and a short time to live?
“Bridget?”
She was pulled out of her reverie and looked up at Joe.
“What? Sorry. Let’s do the cementing job just for the time being. I will get the whole house redone at some point.”
Later, over a good strong cup of tea (Joe liked it that way), they chatted comfortably, Bridget secretly examining his face when he wasn’t looking at her, to try to decide if she found him attractive. His face did not beguile her in the way that Dorian’s had. Joe’s face was rugged, lined, stubbled, rough-pored, with a slightly over-sized and asymmetric nose and very dark, bushy eyebrows that scared her a little. But she did like his eyes, which she realised were a lovely hazel colour and sparkled clear, intelligent and kind. She noted that his hair was thinning and turning a pleasing mix of dark-grey and silver.
But in the end, as he stood in the doorway before going home, it was not his face, but his arms, which captured her. The way in which he drew her to him, with confidence, gentleness and strength, melted her body and swept away her fears. Her eyes closed as he bent down to kiss her - a long, firm, driving kiss that took her by surprise. She found herself responding and not wanting to stop, the mingling of their energies causing that life-giving, magical pleasure. But Joe was the one who pulled away, running his arms down her back and along her waist, which made her body shudder. Bridget was disappointed. She almost took his hand to lead him into her bedroom, but something stopped her.
“Do you want to spend a day with me some time?” he asked. “We could go for a long drive to the West Coast, to the mouth of the Anatori River. Have you ever been there?”
Bridget’s eyes glazed over as she remembered Anatori. The magical beach, the waving Nikau palms, the mist over the surf, the caves that looked out like a pair of giant, dark, open eyes, to the west across the Tasman Sea. It was the place where she and Jimmy had played and danced and where Danny had been conceived.
“Yes,” she answered dreamily. “I have been there. But it was a long time ago. I would love to go again. It is a place with special meaning for me.”
“Oh.” Joe was silent for a while.
“After the madness of Christmas and New Year is over?”
“Yes. I’ll bring a picnic.”
When he was gone, Bridget stood for a while in her hallway, somewhat disoriented and confused. What had just happened? What she had just experienced with Joe was something quite new and unfamiliar. When Dorian had embraced and kissed her at her gate that night some months ago, she had been thrilled, but overwhelmed and disturbed as well, as if the feelings she experienced with him were too much to bear, too intense … and laced with danger.
The feelings she had just experienced with Joe were entirely different. The sexual energy that flowed between them felt wonderful, but engendered no fear or alarm. It almost felt as if the feelings were mixed in with another energy, one that flowed between their hearts. This she had never felt before. It blended with their arousal and enhanced it in a way that made her feel as if she was cared for, protected, safe and loved as well as desired.
After this, all Bridget could do was to sit in her cushioned, cane chair on the veranda, watch the evening fall and savour the lingering, magical feelings. She knew at a very deep level, that life would be very different from now on.
50.
When Bridget rang Holly to tell her about Danny, she sensed that her long-time friend was in need of some attention from her. She didn’t ask, but suspected that her idea of needing some sort of new occupation, a new form of self-expression, was still disturbing her quite a bit.
They agreed to go for a walk along the high cliffs on the West Coast, to the Kahurangi Lighthouse. Bridget packed hot water, things to make a cup of tea and a block of chocolate and Holly brought bacon and egg sandwiches. The day was brilliant and the sky an intense, almost indigo blue that thrilled her to the bone. Holly picked Bridget up after dropping her kids off at school and they drove north in her car.
“How’s Larry settling in at school?” asked Bridget.
“Pretty good, I think. I miss him at home. You know, Bridget, I get lonely sometimes, and can’t wait for them all to come home at the end of the school day. I wait impatiently for the school bus. I just wish I knew how to fill the hours of the day now. I mean, I could do more baking, more preserving and could renovate the house, but I feel I need to do something that takes me out of the house, something that is an expression of the part of me that isn’t a mother or wife. I just wish I knew what it was!”
They turned west off the main highway near the base of Farewell Spit and drove the few miles along the dusty, gravel road inland, through winding hills. They parked the car in a car-park in the middle of a farm, then walked for half-an-hour through the grassy hills, watched by curious sheep and cattle, to arrive at the edge of high cliffs overlooking the Tasman Sea. That morning, the water was a deep azure and relatively subdued beneath a windless sky. The two women stood on the edge of the cliff, their toes tingling, and drank in the intoxicating sea air and magnificent views of the coastline stretching to the north and south. The deep waters slowly rolled in, crashing onto the rocks at the base of the cliffs, mesmerising them into a state that felt a little like being lifted out of the body. It took some willpower to pull themselves away and start walking along the cliff tops, north to the Light House.
“So,” ventured Bridget. “Had any ideas at all about what you might be able to do to fill the hours while the kids are at school and bring out the Holly that isn’t a mother or wife?”
“Well yes, I’ve had lots of ideas. The hard thing is making up my mind!”
“Are you going to sit down at your computer and write that novel?”
“Good heavens, no! That would be my idea of pure hell! And my keyboard skills are abysmal!”
“So, what has been coming into your mind?”
“The first thing that came to me was joining the local Voluntary Fire Brigade.”
Bridget stopped to take a breather after having climbed a steep part of the precarious path that wound its way along the coast, resting from the effort and attention needed to place her feet safely upon it.
“The Voluntary Fire Brigade? You’re kidding me! Why?”
“I can’t imagine anything more exciting!” came the reply. “I am strong enough and it would be quite thrilling working as a woman in a team of men. There is something about that I find rather appealing!”
“What other crazy ideas have crossed your mind?”
“I thought of pole-dancing. Always fancied myself doing that. I’m lithe and strong and there is something rather exciting about showing off your body to strangers. I watched a video about pole dancers once and I was fascinated. It is an art in which dance, gymnastics and eroticism are all mixed into one. But there would be one big drawback.”
“What’s that?” asked Bridget.
“One generally does pole dancing in pubs and nightclubs and I just can’t see the Takaka and Collingwood pubs saying yes to it. And anyway, there would most certainly be a number of people in the audience who would not be strangers!”
Both women were puffing and panting when they finally reached the highest point of the cliffs. They took in the exhilarating view and sat down on the green grass cut very short by the sheep, taking care to avoid sitting in their droppings. The smell of the grass, sheep manure and the sea mingled and stimulated slumbering parts of their brains, as if stirring up indefinable and forgotten primal memories.
“And how would Phil feel about you flaunting your body to all and sundry?”
“He’s fine with it. Says it could revitalise our sex life, showing off his wife and thinking that other men would desire me but that he’s the one who’s got me! But, the thing I wouldn’t like is that it would mean going out at night, when what I really need is something to fill my days.”
Bridget was relieved to hear that. They got up and continued their walk. They walked without stopping, all the way to the lighthouse, before they decided it was time for lunch. A brisk breeze had come down from the north-west and was blowing the women’s hair behind their heads, ironing it out into thin rivulets - Bridget’s a shiny silver and Holly’s, a true blonde with streaks of black, dyed at the local hairdresser to satisfy her need for something different. While making the tea and buttering the scones, Holly started to hum a tune to herself. Bridget had heard her sing before and had always been impressed with the depth and feeling in her voice.
“Have you ever thought about singing in the cafés and restaurants of Golden Bay, Holly? You have a wonderful voice. I can just see you singing all the old jazz classics like ‘Summer Time’, ‘Black Coffee’, ‘Stormy Weather’. Bridget knew she loved these, her friend’s sssCD collection consisting mostly of all the great women jazz singers of the past century.
“Yes,” Holly answered. “But once again, it would mean being out at night mostly. And then, I would have to find some suitable musicians to accompany me.”
“How about something that you can do on the farm during the day? Growing angora rabbits or edible exotic fungi to sell to expensive restaurants in Wellington?” ventured Bridget.
“Hardly creative or self-expressive!” protested Holly.
“Chocolatier?”
“Yes! That would be fun! I could open a little shop in Collingwood. It would do well during the tourist season, I’m sure. I think I could be quite good at that. Trouble is, it means running a business, book-keeping, etc., which I am no good at.”
Bridget was starting to give up. She in fact began to wonder whether Holly actually wanted to embark on a new undertaking. Maybe she feared failure, maybe she did not have the self-confidence. Maybe she needed more time for the new Holly to surface.
Holly sensed her frustration and changed the subject tactfully.
“So how is it having your son back in your life, Bridget?”
Bridget was silent for a while as she thought about how to answer that question.
“I suppose, on the whole, it has been a wonderful experience so far. It is just such a joy to see this beautiful young man in my life every day and the love that I feel for him is such a gift. Of course, he has his foibles and is less than perfect. The amazing thing is that he has turned out to be much as I had imagined he would be as an adult. Every day, as he was growing up with his father in Australia, I imagined him in my life. I imagined how he might look, what he might be doing, how he might be feeling. So, in a way, I have never been separated from him, and seeing him in the flesh now does not seem to be the huge event that many might think it is.”
“That is so amazing, Bridget. And wonderful. Did you always feel that he would come to you one day?”
“Yes, I did. I knew he would find me one day.”
“And Danny? How is he finding the experience of being reunited with his mother?”
“He doesn’t talk much about it. You know how men are. But he’s very considerate and caring.”
“Did he have a stepmother in Australia?”
“Not really. His father had girlfriends, but he said they never stayed long, if they moved in at all. Apparently, Jimmy became quite moody, withdrawn ... difficult to get on with. Danny said that, compared to him, I am a breeze to be around. He said he never thought about me very much, as he had very little memory of me.”
“I look forward to meeting him. Do you think he will stay?” asked Holly.
“I don’t know. I would love it if he stayed around. Not in my house, of course. He seems to really like Collingwood and his job at the Courthouse Café. He and Sonya are getting along like a house on fire. It’s a pity she is having a child that isn’t his ...”
“It’s so strange, isn’t it? The way people end up with one another, or pass in and out of each other’s lives?”
“Not so in yours, though. You and Phil seem to have followed a wonderfully stable and conventional path of courtship, marriage and children.”
“Yes,” answered Holly. “At times I feel it is all a bit boring. Everyone else seems to have so much more drama and interest in their lives. But I guess I should be thankful.”
“You are, aren’t you?” asked Bridget.
“ Yes, of course. But I do wonder sometimes ...” Holly’s voice trailed away. Bridget waited.
“Sometimes I just feel a need for something scandalous, something out of the ordinary, to happen in my life.”
The two women laughed and their voices were picked up and carried south by the breeze. They started the walk back down along the cliffs, carefully picking the exact spot where they would next plant their feet ... somewhat less thrilled by being so close to the edge. Bridget made a mental note to be extra careful. They remained mostly silent for the rest of the way back, lost in their own thoughts. Bridget wondered what Holly would do to give her life the excitement she was looking for, but was a little worried that she might take up something a little too much ‘on the edge’.
Driving back in the car, Holly did ask a question Bridget was hoping she wouldn’t.
“Seen anything of Joe?”
“Yes. He came and helped me fix some guttering last week. I quite like him, Holly.” That was as much as she was going to tell her.
“Well, I suppose people can change,” said Holly. “He was just such a no-hoper in those years when his wife and children were still with him.”
“Yes, people can and do change. I like his quiet, humble manner and he’s very kind.”
“Do you find him attractive?”
“I think I might be beginning to,” admitted Bridget. Holly gave her a worried look and Bridget smiled in return.
Bridget got out at the school where Holly’s children were waiting to be picked up and walked along the road running above the township back to her house. She passed Daniel’s place and noticed he had put a new sign at the beginning of the path through the bush to his house. Artfully sculpted out of a dramatic piece of driftwood, it read: ‘Up the Garden Path’.
51.
Bridget took Danny to meet Daniel just a week later. It was a Monday, the day when the café was closed and Danny was free to do what he liked. They went in the evening, after dinner. The summer solstice had just passed and the days were long, so there were still a good few hours of daylight left. Bridget loved these long summer evenings. They wandered ‘up the garden path’ to the studio where she knew she would find him. Daniel, who was an accomplished didgeridoo player, had recently taken up making this ancient Australian instrument out of driftwood. He was learning, he said, through trial and error, but had managed to produce a couple during the winter he was quite pleased with. Danny was enthusiastic and impressed and keen to learn to play the ancient Australian instrument. Daniel said he would teach him.
They sat in the shade of the manuka trees and birds became silent when Daniel produced the enchanting and hypnotic tunes from one of his home-made instruments, followed by Danny’s rudimentary efforts. Two bellbirds came in close to investigate and, as Bridget observed them fly off against the reddening sky amongst the finely-chiselled, silhouetted branches of the trees, soaking in the tones and vibrations, she had, once again, a déjà vu experience. But this time it was accompanied by an awareness she had not had before: the exquisite awareness of the oneness of all things and all beings. Again, in that small moment, everything felt perfect and she wanted that feeling to never end.
After twenty minutes of playing, the two young men got up and they all walked under the trees from the studio to Daniel’s house. There they enjoyed a drink and comfortable conversation as they sat on the deck overlooking the Aorere Estuary which was slowly disappearing into the darkness on this moonless night. But of course, it was still not completely dark, as moonless, clear night skies in Golden Bay were always bedecked with brilliant stars. Bridget could see that Daniel and Danny liked each other and had much to share about their past in Australia. Daniel was curious about Danny and Bridget’s experience of being reunited after missing out on sharing the years of growing up.
“You must both surely have some pain and anger to deal with?” asked Daniel with brutal frankness. Bridget and Danny had up till now not really thought about that. They had been too swept up in the joy of the reunion and the delights of getting to know each other. Daniel’s question was followed by a moment of silence, as mother and son thought to answer it with honesty.
Bridget answered first. “I have always been aware of a nagging pain deep inside of me, a barely noticeable, mild ache that was easy to ignore. I could see no sense in acknowledging it since I had come to believe, on some deep level, I think, that I did not deserve to look after and raise Danny. And then, he was in another country and trying to find him again always seemed like an impossible task, given that Jimmy never stayed in touch and did not keep me up-to-date on where they were living. That, I think, was the hardest and I do feel considerable anger about that. But I could do nothing about it, so I ignored the feelings.”
