“Amber, get in.”
She bridled at his tone. As if she were some stupid child who had to be told to get in the car. She wouldn’t dignify his command with an answer. She looked away.
He sighed. “Please, Amber, get in.”
If he thought using the word ‘please’ before a command would be persuasive, he had another think coming.
“For God’s sake,” he said, as the rain intensified on the roof of his car, and turned to hail. “You’ll freeze out there.”
At that moment a bus came along. “I’d rather freeze than sit with a rude man who I thought was my friend.” She rose. “Anyway, here’s a bus. Go back to your rich people to laugh about me and leave me alone.”
He glanced in his rear vision mirror. “That bus is only going as far as Little River. You’ll be stranded there.”
“I don’t care. I’d rather be stranded in the middle of nowhere than sit with you in that, that obscene thing you call a car.”
His face creased. “Obscene? And I don’t call it a car. I call it a Jaguar.”
“You can call it a spacecraft for all I care.” She held out her hand and indicated that the bus should stop. It stopped in a splash of water. She picked up her paints and ascended the steps. The bus was full and, shivering, she had to go to the rear of the bus and sit amongst kids, among whom was her niece, Etta. They quizzed her about the paint pots. She’d always liked kids, especially teenagers, and tried to focus on them, blocking David and his betrayal from her mind. She knew the pain would slam back with full force, but she had to get home first. Home to safety.
Etta glanced behind as they stopped at a bus stop. “Never been followed by a top of the line Jaguar before. Look at that!”
The others turned in their seats as the bus idled outside a lamp post which illuminated the car. She could plainly see David looking up at the bus. She looked forward again abruptly.
By the time they’d passed a few more stops, the teenagers were intrigued and making up stories as to why they were being followed. The passengers had thinned out by this time, leaving only them in the back seat.
“I think he may be following me,” she said.
“Jeez! Is he some kind of creep?” asked Etta.
“I think he may be,” Amber said, trying to keep cool and dignified, twisting her fingers in the rope of her bag.
“And he’s waiting for you to get off so he can pounce on you!” Etta and the others were incensed. “He hadn’t counted on us. We’ll sort him out for you, Amber.”
“That would be nice,” she said, trying to stop her lips from trembling. She fixed her gaze on the dark window, but only saw herself reflected back.
They wound their way slowly over the hills towards Little River where they would have to wait for the last bus to take them to Akaroa. She didn’t look again out the back window. She didn’t need to. She saw the movement of the car’s headlights illuminating the dark around her as they snaked their way to their destination. And she listened to the cat-calling and running commentary from the teenagers.
At last they stopped, and the bus rumbled as they jumped out. She went and sat in the bus stop—at least it had an overhead shelter to keep out the rain—while the teenagers went directly over to the Jaguar which had stopped behind the bus, and stayed there as the bus turned back for Christchurch.
Apparently oblivious to the threat of half-a-dozen teenagers shouting at him, David got out of the car and slammed it shut. He took one look at the teenagers, clicked it locked and went over to the bus shelter, closely followed by Etta and her friends.
“Amber. You are surely not going to sit here for two hours until the next bus, rather than take a lift with me.”
She shot him a look she hoped could be described as filthy.
“Hey, perv!” shouted one of the teenagers, as they got bored with checking out his car and came up to him.
“Are those children talking to me?” David asked Amber.
She nodded. “Yes.”
He sighed and turned around. “What?” he asked them.
“You, mate! You with your flash car. Just cos you’re loaded doesn’t mean you can stalk people, you know.”
“I am not stalking anyone.” He turned back to Amber. “What the hell are they talking about?”
“I suggest you ask them, not me.” She looked determinedly away, studying a patch of graffiti scratched into the window of the bus shelter where there was a heart in which two names were inscribed. She hoped Shane and Jess, whoever they were, were prepared to be heartbroken.
