“Is that a bad thing?”
“Not good, or bad. Just a thing. It’s certainly a thing which would give you what you want more easily.”
He nodded. “You should try it.”
She shrugged again and looked out at her sister-in-law and niece splashing in the bay. “I like a quiet life. I don’t think going after what I want would bring me that.”
“Why? What is it you want?”
“Nothing much.”
“Come on. Close your eyes and tell me what would make you happy.”
She laughed, but closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift and form images of things which would bring her joy. “An exhibition of my paintings. A proper one. Not like the craft exhibition where you bought my paintings. But like a proper exhibition with only my paintings shown. A successful exhibition where all my paintings are sold.” She opened her eyes. “But that’s just vanity.”
“Nothing wrong with vanity. Why don’t you organize one?”
“No one is interested.”
“What about your café? I’d have thought that would be the perfect venue. People go there because of you, because the café is all about your personality.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
Amber grunted. “I hadn’t thought of it like that. Anyway, Ihaveasked them, but they prefer to show the touristy things.”
“Leave it with me. I have some contacts.” It was nice of him, but she was under no illusions he’d be successful. “What else?”
She closed her eyes. And for some reason, the Eiffel Tower popped into her head. She opened her eyes again. “Nothing else. Just be happy with what I’m doing here, in Akaroa.”
“You’ve really no thoughts outside this place? You’ve never been interested in any other country?”
“Oh, I love all things French. But then, in Akaroa, we have French history, so…”
“But what about travel? Presumably you’ve been to Europe?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“So… where have you been?”
“Nowhere. Just here. Sometimes I go to Shelter Springs to see Lizzi, but otherwise I stay in Akaroa and Christchurch.”
“Why don’t you travel?”
Why indeed? How had he managed to drive the conversation to this? The memories of what happened five years ago were still vivid. She could feel the visceral clenching in her gut. She swallowed, suddenly nervous.
“I don’t like to.”
“But you’d love France. I can just picture you there. You’d love everything about it. And not just France. What about Italy? Morocco? Berlin?”
She gave a tight smile and shook her head. She jumped up. “We should be getting back. Pop will be feeling left out.”
But before she could turn around, David laid his hand on her arm. It was only a light touch, but it stilled her. She turned to face him and found him nearer than she’d imagined.
He brushed his fingers against her cheek. “What is it? What makes you suddenly so afraid? It’s only the world.”
“Maybe the world isn’t to be trusted?” She shrugged again and walked away, ignoring his light touch on her arm. She quickened her pace and was soon away from the beach, back under the verandah lights with her father sitting in his usual chair reading the paper. This was what she wanted. Security. Safety.
