‘Hm, yes,’ said Augi, glancing at Lucy as if she’d find an explanation for Oliver’s presence written on her forehead. Lucy just shrugged and opened the garden gate for Augi and Oliver. She followed up the rear.
‘Let’s go round the back,’ said Lucy, indicating they should walk around the verandah to where she could hear voices.
‘Hey there,’ she greeted. Everyone stopped talking and looked up. You could have heard a pin drop.
Kate and Ellie were seated at the head of the table, Jen was curled up next to Sam on the side bench amongst the cushions, and Dan sat on Sam’s other side. Dan straightened, jaw set, until his eyes landed on Augi and he stood up as if his body had moved before his brain had caught up.
‘Augi,’ murmured a few voices.
Kate beckoned her over and indicated a seat between herself and Dan. Augi sat, composed, as if she hadn’t just walked into a situation loaded with tension.
Lucy’s stomach turned.
‘And you all remember Oliver, I take it,’ said Lucy, feeling acutely uncomfortable.
Nobody moved.
She glared at Sam who cleared his throat and jumped up and extended his hand to him. ‘Hey, Oliver, good to see you again.’
‘You, too.’ Oliver looked around and directed his comment at Kate. ‘Sorry to arrive unannounced but Lucy, er, took pity on me.’
‘It’s Oliver’s birthday,’ said Lucy.
Kate blinked, then pushed her chair back. ‘Oh! Happy birthday, Oliver. Please — come and take a seat. Lucy will get you something to drink. Have you eaten?’
Oliver held up his hand and shook his head. ‘Yes, thanks. Don’t worry about me. I ate earlier.’ Kate sat back down again.
‘Glass of wine?’ Lucy asked Oliver.
‘Great, thanks,’ he said.
She moved to the kitchen and ignored the open bottles lined up on the bench. She found the champagne she’d stashed in the second fridge in the garage and returned with it and two of her favourite old crystal glasses.
Lucy poured, set one glass in front of Oliver and the other in front of herself, and then — before her nerves could get the better of her — took the empty chair beside him.
Kate wasted no time. It was clear that her mother had somehow steered the conversation to his family in just a few minutes. Her mother was a genius.
‘After talking to you before about your family, I got to thinking about your grandmother. I think I might have heard of her,’ Kate said, as if they were discussing the weather. ‘Patience Perry-Warnes? There can’t be that many Perry-Warnes’s in Wellington.’
Oliver’s head lifted. Something in his expression shifted — surprise, then something softer. ‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘You knew her?’
‘I knew of her,’ Kate replied. ‘My mother, Hope, worked with the City Mission in Wellington. Patience volunteered there, I believe. My mother spoke very highly of her.’
For the first time all evening, Oliver looked unguarded. Almost grateful.
‘She was the best of my family,’ he said simply.
Lucy drew a soft sigh of relief. She knew he needed to connect with someone; she couldn’t bear to think of him adrift.
Kate’s voice gentled. ‘She died a long time ago, I think?’
‘Yes.’ His fingers tightened around the stem of the glass. ‘Just after I was sent to boarding school.’ A pause, rougher. ‘I discovered she was responsible for sending me away, so I barely spoke to her when I left. Never said goodbye.’ His throat worked. ‘And no one told me she’d died. Apparently she’d been ill for years but I never knew, and I never saw her again.’
The table had gone silent again, but this time it wasn’t hostile. It was listening.
‘Oh, Oliver,’ said Kate, sitting back as if she’d learnt something more than what Oliver had told them. ‘I’m sorry. I guess you feel awful about that.’
Oliver nodded.
