“They’re not going to sack me. I told the principal that I needed mental health days. That I’d had surgery for an ectopic pregnancy over the holidays, and I was having trouble coping.”
“Unreliable, is how that sounds,” Granddad said.
“It’s not 1950,” she said, knowing that she was snapping. “Work-life balance. Family emergency. I don’t havetimefor this. If I’m sacked, I’ll get another position, all right? I need you to care for the kids until I’m back. I’ve left a note for them on the kitchen bench, and they know their jobs.”
“Six kids,” Granddad said. “And me a seventy-eight-year-old man. Practically got one foot in the grave.”
“What happened to your new lease on life? Besides,imagine what a hero you’ll be to Maureen when she finds out how you’ve coped.” The driver wasoneminute away now. “Please, Granddad. I need this.”
“Men don’t like to be pressured,” he said.
“I’m not bloodypressuringhim!” If it came out as a shout—well, she was pretty bloody tired of men right now. “I’m going there to support him!Ifhe needs me. I’m there about twelve hours, and then I’m leaving. If he can’t handle that much support, I reckon he can … can run away and hide his head from all that scarylove.”
“Right,” Granddad said. “If you’re determined to go, go on. Though I still don’t understand what you’re on about. He’ll handle this, or he won’t. If he can’t harden up, there’s not much you can do.”
“I am so tired,” she said, “of that stupid Kiwi male stoicism. He doesn’t have to harden up! Not with me, he doesn’t.”
“If you’re tired of it,” Granddad said, “reckon you shouldn’t have picked an All Black.”
Another glance at her phone. She had to leave right now. “I don’t care. I’ve been cautious all my life, except when I’ve been stupid. I’ve been cautiousbecauseI’ve been stupid. Well, I’m tired of second-guessing. If I think it’s right, I’m doing it. And right now, I’m going to London.”
Exactly how long was a thirty-hour flight in Economy class on a Chinese budget airline? A flight that included a six-hour layover in Guangzhou? Long, that was how long. Bloodylong.Also, the Guangzhou airport’s only exotic feature was that the signs were in Chinese. Otherwise, it was the same black airport seats, the kind you couldn’t lie across even when you’d been on a plane for twelve hours straight already—in otherwords, all night long and into the next morning—and had another twelve to go.
You wanted to do this,she reminded herself, shuffling down the jetway and finding her new seat for the flight to London. Her newmiddleseat, because that was what you got when you booked about two and a half hours in advance. The man in the window seat reeked of cigarette smoke. The woman in the aisle, who had to be his wife, talked to him across Skylar for a good nine of the twelve hours as she passed an endless variety of snacks across to him. When Skylar’d indicated via sign language that she was happy to switch seats so they’d be together, the woman had unleashed a torrent of speech at her that Skylar was pretty sure meant,What? I chosethisseat, becauseIbooked ahead of time! I’m not sitting in the middle!
Alas, it was a full flight. She stuck her headphones on, watched a movie and then another one, ate some airplane food and then some more airplane food, which tasted like a Chinese version of Every Airplane Meal Everywhere, dozed off and woke up about thirteen separate times, and tried not to feel tired. Or dirty. Or stupid.
Was she still bleary-eyed and muzzy when she’d gone through Customs and was queueing for the Heathrow Express to Paddington? Yes, she was. She was also proud of herself for finding the Heathrow Express. And, yes, one’s bumdidactually get numb after sitting for that many hours, which is why she stood for the journey. As for why she took a taxi from Paddington to Zane’s hotel instead of finding the right tube line, that would be because she was, suddenly, out of initiative. She just wanted to get to the hotel. Once she got there and saw Zane, she’d sort out what to do. She’d take a shower. She’d have many cups of tea. She’d be fine.
She’d be skint, because the ticket had cost nearly fifteen hundred dollars. If she had to rent a room, which she might if Zane hated her coming here as much as Granddad hadsuggested, it could cost half that again. She didn’t actually know. She hadn’twantedto know. London was terrifyingly dear, she knew that, and Zane’s hotel probably wasn’t in the slums.
Never mind that now. What you told Scarlett and Finlay was true. You make your choices and you take the consequences.
When the taxi pulled to a stop outside a Marriott that looked like, well, a Marriott, she could’ve wept with relief. When she went through the revolving doors and the bellman looked at her oddly, she smiled at him and said, “Hello.” No sense losing her courage now, however messy her hair and however grimy her skin. Not to mention that her male neighbor had spilled tea on her shirt and jeans during the flight. Not his fault—there’d been turbulence—but still. The jeans looked OK—denim was brilliant for that—but the white shirt had been the wrong choice.
Never mind,she told herself for approximately the thirteenth time. Then she pulled out her phone and rang Zane.
It went to voicemail.
OK. OK. Try again.She sat on one of the comfy plush lobby chairs, thought about that cup of tea, and rang him again.
Voicemail.
She picked up her backpack and headed to Reception, because she couldn’t think what else to do. “Hi,” she said when she got there. “I’m looking for my partner. Zane Mahuta. Can you ring his room for me, please?”
The woman looked at her skeptically. “I know, I know,” Skylar said. “I’ve just come off the plane. Thirty hours. Does that ever get easier? But—yeh. Zane. Can you ring him?”
“Have you tried ringing his mobile?” the woman asked.
“Yes. Of course. I got his voicemail. Please. Even if you think I’m a stalker, surely ringing his room isn’t dangerous. It’s not like I’m asking you to tell me which one it is. And seriously, would a stalker look like this? Wouldn’t I have tried toglam up more for my anticipated All Black hookup? It wouldn’t be enough tofindhim. I’d have to actually convince him to have sex with me, and I don’t think I’m?—”
“Skylar?” Oh, how welcome was that word when you were making an utter fool of yourself.
“Gordon!” she said. “Hi.Hi.I’m so glad I found you.”
“To be fair,” he said, “I’d say that I foundyou.”As cheeky as ever, like nothing bad could touch him. “You look a bit, uh, tired. Just get in?”
“Oh, ‘tired’ doesn’t begin to describe how I look,” she said. “Yeh, just got here. Zane didn’t know I was coming. I’m putting that out there in case you don’t want to lend your aid to this endeavor. He can be a scary bloke, I realize.”
