“Sounds perfect,” I say. Once again, I remind myself that this is a temporary thing for both of us, but that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the time we have together. We’ve both suffered a great loss, and it’ll be nice to discuss our memories of Jack and share our grief.
Chapter Five
Cullen
Sunrise Bay is a gorgeous little cove, almost a lagoon, as a sand bank across part of it makes it shallow and not great for boats. The beach is on the small side, too, and the road past it isn’t on the way to anywhere significant. Tourists and other visitors to the Waitangi Treaty House tend to exit the Treaty Grounds and head south toward the pretty coastal town of Paihia, with its long, sandy, mainly empty beaches. This means Sunrise Bay and its accompanying town is a hidden gem, frequented mostly by locals, and so far it’s remained quiet and beautiful.
The village consists mainly of one road called—somewhat unimaginatively—Beach Road, that runs from Waitangi and follows the curve of the bay before curling around to the golf club and then returning back to the main State Highway. Sunrise Bay is so named, so legend has it, because Captain Cook moored just outside the bay when he first came to New Zealand, and when he awoke early, he declared the sunrise was the most beautiful he’d ever seen. Now, it features a line of shops, cafés, and baches or beach houses, and is home to around five hundred people.
Isla’s friend’s bach is basically a sleepout that the owners have had transported, with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a living room. The kitchen is little more than a small counter and sink at one end of the living room. There’s no oven, just a small 3-in-1 combi oven and microwave, and minimal cooking facilities. It’s basic, but it’s quiet and it’s right by the beach, so it’s a great escape for a busy family in the city, and perfect for Isla and Max. The sand on the floorboards, driftwood mobiles in the windows, and painted shell motifs on the whitewashed wallscontrast with the small tree with its LED lights and tinsel to provide an iconic Kiwi Christmas scene.
We visit the small café,Fush and Chups—which is how Kiwis tend to pronounce ‘fish and chips’—take our chips, battered sausages and snapper, and onion rings, all wrapped in newspaper, back to the bach, and dish it up onto plates. Then we pour ourselves a glass of wine, take it all out onto the deck, and eat looking out at the view, watching the gentle waves rolling up the sand.
We don’t say anything for a while. Isla talks quietly to Max in between mouthfuls, but she seems content to enjoy the peace and quiet, which I like, as so many people seem to feel the need to fill a silence.
While I eat, I think over what Isla admitted on our way down the hill. Is it really true? I’m struggling to believe it, but the fact that she knew what Jack called her suggests it’s true.
“You don’t look like Jack,” I say.
“No, I’m like our mum. Jack looked like our dad. Hold on.” She gets out her phone, presses a few buttons, then turns the screen around. “Our parents,” she says. It’s a photo of a middle-aged couple, taken close up at a wedding or similar event, as they’re both in smart clothes. Her mum is wearing makeup, and her hair is neatly styled. Isla’s right—her mother has the same brown hair and distinctive turquoise eyes, whereas her father is like an older version of Jack, with his sandy hair, his brown eyes, and the same Roman nose.
“Wow,” I say, “he looks just like your dad.”
“Yeah.” She studies the photo and smiles, then turns the phone off and puts it on the table.
I no longer have any doubt that she’s telling the truth. Jack had been my partner for nearly five years. We were similar in many ways—quiet, practical Kiwi men who preferred not to talk about feelings and emotions. Despite this, he mentioned hissister, Bonny, many times, and always talked fondly about her. He also adored his nephew; I think he mentioned he was called Max, but I didn’t make the connection because it’s a relatively common name.
He did tell me that he didn’t like her husband. He and Rob had known each other at school, and when I asked what he was like, he narrowed his eyes and called him the C word. “She can do better,” he said. That was the extent of his description, but it summed up the situation for me, and I didn’t ask for more details.
So I’m not surprised now I’ve put two and two together, but I am sad. Jack would be incensed to discover that Rob has been violent toward both his beloved Bonny and her son. If he were here, I have no doubt that he’d have marched around to their house and knocked Rob’s teeth down his throat.
I watch Max biting into his battered sausage, then glance at Isla. “Does he know?” I mouth.
She nods. “I said it was best that he didn’t mention Jack until you knew.” Max looks at his mum, and she says, “I told Cullen that Jack was my brother.”
“He was your partner,” he says to me.
“Yes.”
“He was killed by an explosion.”
I nod, my throat tightening. “That’s right. I was there.”
“You weren’t hurt?”
“My shoulder was, a bit, but not too bad. Ghost was injured too, but he’s better now.”
“Is that why he doesn’t like people touching him?”
“Yes.”
He thinks about that. “I’m glad you weren’t hurt too much,” he says, and stuffs a few chips in his mouth. “Mum, I’ve had enough. Can I take Ghost on the sand?”
“Of course. Put your hat on. And be very careful on the crossing and look both ways.”
Obediently, he pulls his hat over his hair, then walks down to the zebra crossing. There’s no traffic at all, but he obediently waits and looks both ways, then continues to look while he walks across. Once he’s on the grassy verge, he runs onto the sand, Ghost at his feet.
I watch him go, feeling a strange lightness in my chest. “That was easier than I thought it was going to be.”
