“No, of course not. What could he do? He’s perfect!”
“Steady on. No one’s perfect.” Flo ruminated for a few moments. “Where is he now?”
“He’s gone to work. Christchurch. Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s just that I’ve never heard of a man refusing to make love to a woman who’s obviously keen when he’s told her he loves her. It’s just odd, isn’t it?”
“No,” denied Amber, doubt creeping into her mind for the first time. When she’d been with David, nothing had seemed odd. Whatever he’d said she’d believed and they’d been in tune, in key, together emotionally and spiritually, so there was no way she could doubt him. But now, in the cold light of day, she couldn’t help agreeing with Flo. There was something odd about it. She stood up. “Anyhow, I’d better get going.”
“I thought you were going to hang out with me this morning.”
“Change of plan. I’ve had a text from a friend asking me for one of my rainbows on another building, which the powers that be want to destroy. And I think I’ll catch up with David, too.”
“Where? His office? His home?”
The seed of doubt grew a little. She didn’t like to tell Flo that she didn’t actually know where either of those were. All she knew about David was that he appeared from time to time in Akaroa, where his sister also lived part time. Really, it wasn’t much to go on now she thought about it.
She shrugged. “Somewhere. I’ll see him around.” And, as she left Flo’s place, she had the uncanny sense that she would.
But,at the end of a long, hot afternoon, Amber still hadn’t seen David, despite sending him text messages asking if they could meet up. She stepped back from the painting on the side of the wall of one of the older buildings in Christchurch, now exposed by a building which had had to be demolished after the earthquake.
She’d been asked to join a group of artists who were frantically painting the front and sides of the lone building, which remained standing after the 2011 earthquake but whose future was far from sure. With empty lots on either side, it was ripe for development, and that was just what the group was afraid of.
She stepped away from her painting and scrutinized it. She liked it. Abstract, but with a feeling for the place. It might be ever so slightly illegal. But no one knew who owned the wasteland, and all the feedback on their work had been positive.
There were only a few of the group left that late in the afternoon, as it had got colder. She went and joined the others who were beginning to pack up. “It looks great, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. And your rainbow is perfect, brings together the two elements really well. You’ve got a way with colors.”
Amber grinned. She might not get her work shown in snobby art galleries in Christchurch without knowing the right people, but her people enjoyed her work. And that was good enough for her.
“It all works well together, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, the news reporters who were here earlier took a few snaps and interviewed me. I hope it makes the news. We want as much publicity as this will bring us. It would be a crime to demolish it.” Her friend waved one of his paint brushes across the road. “Looks at those old warehouses. They’ve been done up and are tenanted now. So could this one be.”
“Let’s hope.”
“Anyway, we’re off now. You coming?”
Amber felt a momentary flicker of unease. She still didn’t like being left alone, especially on a deserted site such as this. “Yes, I’ll just pack my things.”
But, as the others were itching to go, they made sure Amber wouldn’t be far behind them, and hopped over the fence and were gone.
Amber finished up, gathered her things and was only a few minutes behind them, but they’d vanished and, instead, she was confronted with a small group of angry-looking men in suits.
“Hey!” An aggressive voice shot out over the cold frosty ground. The men were standing around the padlocked gate, which she’d hopped over a few hours before, watching her. She smiled and waved. Maybe they were sightseers doing the rounds of the art works.
“Hi!” she called, pulling her vintage purple coat more tightly around her. She wore a south American knitted hat with ear flaps, fingerless gloves and thick boots. Gabe had said she looked like a homeless woman when he’d caught sight of her. Maddy and Rachel had defended her look, saying no homeless women had ever looked so exotic, and besides, she wasn’t carrying plastic bags. Amber didn’t care either way. She never did understand why people worried about what other people might think. What was the point? No, she dressed to please no one but herself. And people had to accept her for who she was, or not at all.
“You there!” The voice was angry now, and her smile faded.
She put her brushes into her leather holdall and walked across to the fence. “Yes?” she said, through the wire fence.
“What are you doing there?”
She looked at the painting behind her and wondered why they were asking. It was pretty obvious. “Painting a rainbow.”
A car door slammed from behind them. “Sorry I’m late. I got held up at the—” The words stopped like they’d flowed into a brick wall and Amber found herself face to face with David.
