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  Maggie watched him leave and could have kicked herself. Why am I such a bitch? But she knew. It was better to ruin any chance of something good happening in her life, before it happened. No more broken hearts, no more disappointment. Much better to be safe than sorry later.

  So why was she feeling sorry now? Stop it, she thought. As if he would ever be interested in you.How could he ever be? Nowhurry up and get out of here.

  She was pleased to see the empty wine bottles in Jilly’s bedroom had been taken away, even if the cleaning hadn’t been done. Pushing aside dress after dress in the crowded wardrobe, she couldn’t help thinking about Ben talking Lucy out of buying the house when she was so vulnerable. Because that’s what he must have done. Lucy was so sure they’d bought it. Were doctors allowed to take advantage of distressed patients? She’d check later, she thought. But I’d better hurry or I’ll never get out of here, and he’ll think I’m hanging around just to see him.

  Finally she decided on a simple blue sheath with long sleeves and a collar heavy with gold embroidery. Perfect, elegant, and simple but rich – just like she imagined Jilly must have been before alcohol stole her life.

  Hunting through a chest of drawers for underwear, Maggie caught sight of her reflection in the mirror above. The woman looking back at her took note of the black clothes and waggled her finger warningly, before smiling back ruefully. I look fine. Damn him, who cares what he thinks?

  There must have been at least twenty photos from Jilly’s life displayed on one of the walls, in a spare bedroom, the early ones in black and white. Her baby photo and her first day at school; a photo of her in a ball dress being presented to a bishop, and next to that, one of the Auckland lawyer and Jilly on their wedding day, eyes only for each other. There was a professional photo of the two of them bending over their daughter’s bassinet, their love for the baby unmistakable.

  The holiday snap of the three of them at the beach marked a different era. Their daughter was looking up at them as they stood apart, smiles forced. After that, the photos were only of Jilly and her daughter, the lawyer noticeable by his absence. In her daughter’s graduation photo, Jilly was thin, her face lined and her hair grey and in need of a wash. Her daughter looked as if she couldn’t wait for it all to be over.

  The last photo was the same as the one in Jilly’s bedroom, and showed a successful businesswoman sitting at a desk in front of a window overlooking Central Park in New York. Her daughter had written on it, “To Mum, If I can make it here…”

  Maggie chose the one or two photos in which Jilly looked truly happy. Stripping them from their frames, she tucked them into a tote bag with the underwear, picked up the dress and a pair of matching shoes she’d found in their box in the bottom of the wardrobe, and walked back through the silent house to her car.

  The light was on in the garage. She called out goodnight to Ben, and he replied but didn’t come out to see her off.

  Maggie thought she’d feel relieved when the house gates shut automatically behind her and she was on the road back to Queenstown. But all she felt was regret, and she didn’t want to let herself think about the reasons why.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Kate, have you got Lizzie’s order ready yet?” asked Nick, poking his head through the door to the kitchen.

  “Over there,” she said, inclining her head in the direction of the pizza bag and the box of coke, before turning back to talk to Elka.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, “I promise I’ll look after it as if it’s my own.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of,” replied Elka. “You’ll do so well and make such a name for yourself, there won’t be room for me when I’m ready to return. I know what you young chefs are like.”

  “Elka, one of the most important things Eric taught me was the importance of consistency. There are two sorts of diners who come here. The first are the regulars – they know what to expect and that’s why they keep coming back. The second are the new customers, the tourists who have heard or read about Elka’s and want a special night out. They’ll love it no matter what, just on your reputation, great food and excellent service. So as long as I follow everything you’ve shown me, it’ll be fine. They come for the Elka experience, not the Kate Potter one. So please, I don’t want you stressing out before your operation. I’ll be working hard to make sure every customer who walks through that door gets the Elka experience with maybe the chance to try a little Kate Potter dining on the side.”

  Elka held open her arms to Kate. As they hugged, she said, “You’re a wonderful girl, young Kate. I’ve been so worried.”

  Stepping back from the hug, Elka looked quizzically at her. “You’ve put on weight. It’s all very well enjoying your food, but be careful, no room in a small kitchen for a fat cook.”

  “That’s a bit harsh, even for you, Elka. It’s because I haven’t been working for a few weeks. Can’t wait to get busy again and get rid of it.”

  “Just keep it the way I’ve left it. No heroics.”

  “Done. Now go home and pack. Mum’s excited because she hasn’t been to Dunedin for ages and wants to go shopping. She says she needs new clothes. Please, Elka, talk her out of buying more black. It’s so depressing, isn’t it Nick?” said Kate.

  Nick nodded, unsure what he was agreeing to. Then following Kate’s lead, they shepherded Elka outside to her car. Nick wrapped Elka in a big hug, told her he loved her and would see her soon. Kate followed suit. Elka shut the car door and set off, as the two young people she had watched grow up waved her off down the road. She tried to reassure herself again that Kate understood and respected her fears for the restaurant. If only the operation was over and done with and she could get back to normal life – cured.

  Until now she’d never had a day’s illness, something she’d put down to giving up cigarettes, keeping fit and staying away from doctors. Now this horrible thing was lurking inside her and she had to depend on strangers for help. There had been a lot of stories of surgical botch-ups in the papers recently, and she was worried. What if something went wrong? Thank goodness Ben had given her some sleeping tablets, with strict instructions to take one if not two tonight so she got a good night’s sleep. She planned to do just that. She just needed to clean her house from top to bottom first.

  Kate felt Nick looking at her as, arms raised, she waved goodbye. She knew what her predictable brother would say next, and he didn’t disappoint.

  “Kate, you definitely put on weight when you were away.”

  Taking a deep breath, she chose not to react the way she usually did when he made comments about her appearance. Normally he had to quickly duck the blow that followed – Kate had never believed in pulling her punches, no matter how many times Maggie had told her off. Today, all she did was shrug before loosening her apron over her chef’s clothes and muttering something about never trusting a thin cook, before she disappeared back into the kitchen to oversee the prep work for tonight’s specials. Since filming up at the lake was on hold, they had been given a respite from the demands of catering for ninety hungry crew members. Kate was pleased about the less frenzied introduction to her new role. She said it would give her time to work on the new recipes she had in mind.

  Chapter Twenty

  Lizzie was her usual self when Nick delivered her order. Tetchy, but pleasant enough.

  “When’s your mother going to come and see me?” she demanded. “I hope you told her.”

  “I asked her two days ago,” said Nick, “but she’s really busy, and tomorrow she’s going to Dunedin with Elka. She’s got a service today and you would have heard about the man dying on the chairlift yesterday?” He was sure at least one of her carers would have told her the gossip.

  “They said something about it being lucky Ben Goodman was there,” said Lizzie. “I don’t see why, when the guy was dead.”

  “I was there too, so was Mum. We looked after the guy’s partner. One very upset woman. His wife is arriving on the afternoon flight from Auc
kland, so Mum is going to be busy with her. She asked me to tell you she hasn’t forgotten and will come and see you when she gets back from Dunners.”

  “I suppose I don’t have much choice, do I, other than to sit here and wait.” Lizzie restarted her game and dismissed Nick with a wave.

  As soon as she heard the door click shut behind him and his feet on the stairs, Lizzie froze the screen. Pulling her walking frame around in front of her she edged forward inch by inch, then heaved herself bit by huge bit out of the sofa. Just standing up made her breathless, and she had to wait until the stars in front of her eyes went away. She shuffled the walker in front of her, taking little steps, wincing each time her damaged foot took her weight. Reaching down to the box that Nick had left on the table beside her sofa, she grabbed two of the coke bottles by their necks and swung them into the basket hanging on the front of her walker.

  Slowly but surely she moved, clumping the frame down in front of her and hauling the wasted right leg behind her. When she got to the sink, she leaned heavily on the bench before picking up one of the bottles, unscrewing the top and emptying the contents before refilling the bottle with water. It took over three quarters of an hour to empty and refill all six bottles with water and put them back beside the sofa out of sight of curious eyes.

  “No one’s business,” she said to herself. Exhausted by the unaccustomed effort, she sank back into the sofa and snoozed for an hour before resuming her game. The pizzas were cold when she woke, but she ate them all.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Now and then Maggie dealt with someone who died without family, or without family who cared. Believing that everyone deserves some recognition of having been on this earth, she would hold a small ceremony for them at The Stables and would then accompany the casket to the cemetery for burial. If cremation was the chosen option she would put their ashes onto the “relic shelf”, where they stayed until they were claimed. Six-monthly reminder letters asking for the urns to either be collected, or for alternate instructions to be given, were sent out routinely, but usually these sad letters were returned marked address unknown. When there were too many urns and the shelf was in danger of collapsing, she had another one built. It would be someone else’s problem when she died – what to do with the relics.

  This morning the ceremony was for Jilly. The Auckland PA had informed her Jilly had hated the thought of cremation, so Maggie had purchased the next available plot in Queenstown cemetery from the council and made the necessary arrangements for a burial. And lots of flowers! And a singer!

  The Presbyterian minister was always happy to come and say a few words. Neither of them knew if Jilly had been a believer, but Maggie always erred on the side of better-to-be-safe-than-sorry. She had copied the photos she had taken from the house and printed off a short order of service, to show anyone who turned up that Jilly had been happy once. It was really none of her business, but she would send several copies with her account to the PA and her boss, just to show them how their money had been spent.

  She put the original photographs in the casket beside Jilly, who looked fabulous in her blue gown. When she’d finished making Jilly look as close as possible to the earlier versions of herself, Maggie took photographs of her lying peacefully in the white-silk-lined casket. It was not something she normally did, but this time she made an exception, just in case anyone was interested.

  The Jilly in the casket looked very different from the sad woman who had been brought to The Stables a few days ago. Maggie had relished the opportunity to make someone she barely knew look as beautiful dead as she had once looked alive. Jilly looked great, even if Maggie was the only one who knew.

  The minister had finished his short eulogy when the door opened and Ben Goodman slipped quietly into the reception room. Maggie had never been more surprised to see anyone, especially after last night.

  “I thought I should pay my respects,” he whispered as he edged past her to an empty chair, nodding to the minister and Jilly’s only other mourner, the cleaning lady.

  One of the town’s more gifted young singers had just enthusiastically launched into her version of Amazing Grace. Ignoring the fine voice, Ben leaned down disconcertingly close to Maggie and whispered quietly in her ear, “After all, I will be living in her house.” Maggie’s gasp at the cheek of the man was thankfully muffled by the song.

  The girl finished and made a quiet exit back to her day job as a receptionist at a nearby hotel, very happy with the large cash payment in the envelope from Maggie. Thankful to get away from Ben, Maggie busied herself opening the double doors, and with Nick’s help, wheeled the casket out to the waiting hearse. The flowers Maggie had ordered smothered the interior, putting to shame the modest bouquet from her ex-husband, no doubt courtesy of his PA. There had been nothing from Jilly’s daughter.

  The meagre funeral cortege, made up of Maggie and the minister in the hearse, Ben in his car, the cleaning lady in her small Suzuki, and Nick on his scooter bringing up the rear, wound its way through the town and up to the cemetery, which was tucked into the base of a hill dark with pine trees.

  Jilly’s grave was waiting for her. The frozen ground had been back-hoed first thing this morning, and the machine was parked diplomatically a few rows behind, ready to refill the hole when everyone had gone.

  The minister read Psalm 23 as the casket was lowered into the ground, and once Jilly was in her final resting place, Ben, the minister and the cleaning lady made their awkward farewells before wandering back to their cars. The digger moved in and started work, heavy clods of earth thumping onto the wooden casket. Together Maggie and Nick ferried the flowers from the hearse to the graveside, their bright colours sitting pretty against the dark mud of winter. Maggie was pleased she’d ordered them, and something inside her told her Jilly would have been pleased too, and bugger the expense.

  When she got back to The Stables, there was an email waiting for her from Helen Holmes, Mark’s wife, informing her she would be arriving just after three and would come straight from the airport to talk to her and to see her husband, before they went to their hotel. Maggie assumed this meant Helen was bringing a friend.

  There was another email, from Lucy, thanking her for her kindness the day before and to say she would be flying back to Auckland this afternoon. Maggie hoped the women wouldn’t run into each other at the airport.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  It was after four when Helen and Sarah finally arrived. Maggie learned that the only hire car available had been an orange Suzuki Swift, which Helen had immediately told the young Irishwoman staffing the counter just wouldn’t do.

  “It’s the only way to deal with these people,” she told Maggie later.“So we waited at the counter, our luggage bundled all around us, for about ten minutes. There was a queue of course, but when I told them my husband had just died, people were very understanding. So … where was I?’”

  ‘“The girl came back–…” prompted Sarah.

  “That’s right. She came back and told us a black Porsche Cayenne had just that minute been returned, a day early. We knew all along she’d had something but was just too lazy to get it for us until we insisted. Typical Irish. Probably thought we would give in and make do with the Suzuki.” Helen had looked at Sarah then and snorted, “As if.”

  Maggie had recognised the Porsche as soon as it had pulled up outside The Stables. For a moment she thought Lucy had forgotten something on her way to the airport. But of course, Lucy would be mid-flight by now, returning home alone, after arriving less than a week ago with such high hopes for her future.

  It was unsettling when Helen and Sarah walked into her office. Both were wearing sunglasses and snug-fitting shearling jackets over black leggings tucked into English riding boots. They were only spared the accusation of mutual flattery by imitation, by the different handbags they carried, and because Sarah was wearing a large square of brightly patterned silk under her jacket, while Helen, the grieving widow, was more simply adorned with
several gold rope necklaces draped against her white cashmere jersey.

  Maggie’s first impression was that they were the same age, but after a few seconds she realised Helen was a good ten years older than her friend.

  Maggie stepped forward, hand outstretched, before realising too late this was not the usual way these women greeted people. However they were too well-mannered to ignore her, and each awkwardly clasped the tips of her fingers before disengaging. She invited them to sit down, relieved she had her desk to hide behind. If only it were tidy – dusted, even.

  As they made themselves comfortable, Maggie couldn’t help staring at Sarah. She was beautiful. Of course she would be, but in a refined way she hadn’t expected. His type would be, she thought, as she waited for them to sit.

  “In your email, Mrs Holmes,” Maggie began, “you said you wanted to come and see Mark on your way to the hotel. I can take you to see him now if you like, before we go over the details. Or we could do that later.”

  Helen slumped suddenly in her chair and put her hand over her face. She reached out for Sarah, and finding her arm, squeezed it.

  Her face full of concern, Sarah covered Helen’s hand with her own and patted it comfortingly. “You wouldn’t have a glass of water, would you?” she asked Maggie. “It’s been a long journey in very sad circumstances and it’s all getting a bit much. The car business at the airport didn’t help.” She reached over and lifted Helen’s face – her dry face, Maggie noted. “You do look dehydrated, my sweet,” said Sarah. “We have to look after you. For the children’s sake.”

  As she filled a jug with water, Maggie wondered who was looking after the children while their mother was here.

  When she returned to the office a few minutes later, Sarah was kneeling in front of her friend. “It will be all right, Helen. I’m here for you,” she said, standing up and taking a glass from the tray, she filled it from water from the jug.