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  “You know they wouldn’t be happy with anyone I intended to marry.”

  “So they aren’t happy with Stephen?” Sandy persisted. Her eyes were carefully focused on Joanne’s face.

  Joanne shuffled uncomfortably. A defence lawyer under question.

  “They don’t consider he has a proper job.”

  “Well, they are probably right aren’t they?”

  Joanne bristled and took a slow sip of wine. Her eyes held Sandy captive for a second, calculating and reasoning. Their grey depths sent a clear message that was not familiar between the friends.

  For a moment Sandy experienced the professional side of Joanne, the one that was reserved for her court appearances. The one that wilted defendant’s silly enough to imagine her classy exterior would not contain a sharp, focused brain that was ruthless under pressure.

  “I thought...”

  Joanne began slowly, leaving a moments silence before continuing. Her unspoken warning rested heavily on the table between them.

  “If anyone would understand it would be you. Like you he is an artist and a good one. Success isn’t something that just arrives, it takes time.”

  “It takes time, talent and motivation,” corrected Sandy. Ignoring the tension etching across Joanne’s face she continued. This needed to be said and perhaps there would not be another opportunity.

  “Quite often you have to do something else to earn a living while you wait and hope your work is recognised and appreciated by someone.”

  The grey eyes remained focused sending a clear signal. You have no case Sandy. You do not have all the evidence.

  “I have sold some of my art. In fact, quite a few of my paintings have sold and for far more money than Stephen has ever received. I have been privately commissioned on two occasions and I still do not consider myself an artist. I know I have to compromise to meet the market, sometimes it is the only way to make anything artistic a sound business.”

  The grey eyes remained focused. They had hardened to concrete but Sandy needed to finish.

  “I also hold down a job, a job waiting tables at a wine bar. A job that I am not happy doing. But I have to live and until I can rely on my work to support me that is just the way it has to be.”

  Sandy glanced at Joanne’s rigid face it had now completely shut down.

  “I think now would be a good time to have a change in subject.”

  Joanne had made a statement. There would be no invitation to continue the conversation about Stephen or their relationship. Sandy had failed to make her case.

  The tension soon faded and the sun shone brightly casting reflections across the surface of the river and into the deep shadows of the swimming hole.

  “Hey, Joanne, come on!”

  Joanne eyed the colourful assortment of clothing that Sandy had left strewn behind her. The items stretched from her car which was parked in a small gravel area to the rocky edges of the water.

  “I haven’t brought anything to swim in.”

  Sandy roared with laughter.

  “We’ve been through this before, remember? You are such an old lady. If anyone turns up we will see them before they see us, assuming they are even interested in seeing us!”

  “Make a choice Joanne, the conservative and old before her time, soon to be married lawyer or single Jo in her twenties with a tiny little bit of fun left in her!”

  “So its Jo again is it?!”

  Sandy was the only one that had ever taken the liberty of abbreviating her name.

  Joanne sighed and rolled her eyes as she remembered the last time Sandy’s nagging had led her out of her comfort zone and into the water naked and vulnerable.

  “You know how the last time ended. Remember we had no clothes when we got out.”

  Sandy giggled and tugged at the woven matt of tiny blue love beads that hung limply against the moist skin of her neck.

  “Well, this is hardly a populated area is it? It is highly unlikely there are any drunken teenage boys hiding in the tree’s waiting to sneak off with your rags.”

  Joanne laughed, recalling the skinny dipping incident several years ago. Sandy’s outrageous personality always made her feel young, daring and alive.

  Joanne slipped out of her clothes and self-consciously lowered herself into the cool depths of the mountain-fed pool.

  “You really don’t like Stephen do you?”

  Sandy she chose her words as carefully as she could.

  “I didn’t think you wanted to continue conversation about Stephen.”

  Sandy went on before there was a chance for Joanne to reconsider.

  “I don’t know Stephen. But to be honest, he isn’t what I thought you would settle for.”

  “I don’t understand?”

  “I always thought you would end up with someone successful and ambitious. Not settle for the white picket fence and a life of running like a mouse on a wheel.”

  “That’s a little harsh and is it really what you see for me when I am married?”

  “I’m not sure Joanne. The world Stephen lives in is different from the world you live in. His work is not selling and from what I see he is happy to live off your wages if it means he doesn’t have to compromise to meet the market…”

  Sandy trailed off as she heard the crunch of gravel in the parking area above.

  Joanne cursed and submerged herself under the water. She made a feeble effort to extend an arm towards the pile of clothes she had left folded neatly at the water’s edge.

  At the same time an elderly woman made an audible shriek and covered the eyes of her youngster, trying to guide him quickly back to their car. He was protesting loudly wriggling to free himself and struggling to look back.

  Joanne turned awkwardly. Sandy was standing fully exposed, water dripping from the matt of blue beads. They were the only thing that covered any of her voluptuous body. Laughter followed the fast retreating vehicle.

  “It’s not going to be good for my professional image if I have an indecent exposure charge filed against me.”

  “We had better get out of here.”

  “Oh, and I like those beads, but they don’t hide enough.”

  The old fashioned fish and chips sat on grease stained paper between the three of them. The chips were crisp and salty and the large white fleshed portions of snapper were moist in their coating of golden batter.

  “I haven’t tasted takeaways like this in years.”

  “They do a good job locally. I guess there is no excuse not to have a good product being this close to the sea.”

  Stephen was making little effort to hide his fascination and was staring across the table at Sandy.

  “When will we have to leave for the airport?”

  “If we leave in around three quarters of an hour we will be allowing enough time.”

  Joanne answered over her shoulder as she excused herself from the room.

  The door had just clicked shut when Sandy felt a hand reaching slowly under the table. It settled on her knee the fingers traced small seductive circles on her bare flesh.

  “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

  She raised her head and stared at Stephen across the expanse of greasy food.

  “Come on Sandy. You’ve been making it pretty obvious you are as interested as I am.”

  Sandy fought to control her temper. If she shouted Joanne would be the one that suffered and while the end result would possibly be for the best there must be a less painful way for her to find out exactly what she intended marry.

  “Firstly, you arrogant bastard, I would never consider betraying Joanne. You don’t know how lucky you are that she, for reasons I cannot explain, has settled for someone like you.”

  She waited for her words to sink in. He continued to grin at her across the table. She felt his hand begin to move slowly up her inner thigh.

  “Secondly, even if you were single, I would not find you attractive. Actually, I find you revolting, arrogant and feminine.”
r />   He didn’t flinch, he didn’t remove his hand and the grin never slipped from his face.

  Sandy lowered her voice and spoke through her gritted teeth.

  “There is no chance Joanne will end up wasting her life on someone like you. And I will make sure that she doesn’t.”

  He slowly removed his hand from Sandy’s leg and smiled at her brightly.

  “We will have to wait and see about that won’t we?”

  He winked, displaying an unaffected confidence.

  “You don’t know what you are missing.”

  Dismissing Sandy he turned his back and yelled towards the closed door.

  “Joanne. I’ve changed my mind. I think I will come to the airport.”

  “You bastard,” Sandy hissed.

  Joanne stood frozen in the doorway. She didn’t know what had passed between the two most important people in her life, but whatever it was had turned the summer warmth to winters ice.

  Later that evening Sandy sat sulking in the departure lounge of Nelson airport waiting for the boarding call.

  The visit had been short and she was leaving before she had had the privacy or the time to find the words to tell Joanne what she needed to hear.

  She had intensely disliked Stephen when she had first met him. That dislike had strengthened to an unhealthy loathing. She hated the bridesmaid’s dress she had been fitted for, she hated everything it symbolised and she hoped more than anything else she would never have to wear it.

  Chapter 9

  “Joanne and Sandy”

  Sandy boarded the plane. She glanced at the aisle seat. A young breastfeeding mother looked up nervously and smiled. At least it wasn’t occupied by a fat man with greedy eyes squeezed into a far too small suit.

  She settled into the comfort of her seat and watched the hills unfold beneath her. She let her mind wander back to the first time she had met Joanne.

  They had arrived at the same place, at the same time but for totally different reasons.

  Joanne was the accidental product of career driven parents. Her father was a senior partner in a large and successful inner city law practice. Her mother was the CEO of an international cosmetic company.

  They had scheduled Joanne’s upbringing to fit in with their efficient and demanding lifestyles. They tolerated as little disruption from her as possible and juggled pick-ups and drop offs between their appointments and meetings.

  Their house was tidy, their schedules were tidy, they took holidays in exotic locations where they would employ nannies and continue to work at their computers and make their long distance phone calls.

  Joanne grew up socialising and communicating with successful, high achieving adults. Aim high, work hard and push open the doors of success for a happy and worthwhile life.

  When Joanne reached her teenage years her mood swings and mild displays of rebellion were foreign territory to her family. It was decided the only logical solution was to dispatch her off to a nearby and exclusive Auckland boarding school. Here she could study, get through her “difficult” years and graduate without the distraction of boys in a co-educational school.

  By now her mother and father had, at least in their opinion, completed their parental duties and were ready to continue their busy, tidy lives without further interruption or conflict.

  Their difficult daughter arrived at the gates of the strict, exclusive school wearing the latest fashion and trailing designer bags full of books and expensive cosmetics. Her mother had always hoped Joanne would make more of her looks.

  Sandy, by contrast, was like a solitary exotic bird dancing her way through a world she considered too dull, too black, too white and too grey. Ideally, she would have been comfortable spending her teenage years in the 1960’s, fitting into a family that thrived on art, music, marijuana and large helpings of rock and roll.

  As if a cruel joke of nature, Sandy was born to conservative, strict and staunchly religious parents. They struggled to understand their only daughter. They dragged her kicking to church every Sunday. They consulted their priest and other parents in their congregation before they consulted numerous psychologists and medical professionals.

  Sandy would not, could not, conform to any kind of “normal” that they had the ability to understand.

  It was the final straw when a naked, pimple-covered youth fell while trying to negotiate the climb out of Sandy’s bedroom window late one evening. He hit the ground with a heavy thud, breaking his wrist and severing the final thin thread of trust between mother, father and wayward daughter.

  Sandy was quickly packed off to boarding school in an effort to save her soul and what remained of her parent’s sanity.

  Sandy remembered eyeing her new roommate with distaste. The tall, frigid blonde looked about as much fun as a mid-winter swim in the Pacific Ocean.

  Joanne was serious and aloof, disinterested in socialising and committed to a rigid study routine. She was like an alien to Sandy with her obsessive battle to achieve straight A’s and her polite but minimal efforts to make conversation.

  Was the person responsible for organizing the dorms playing a joke? Sandy scowled at the slender, tall figure working diligently at the small desk, driving herself until she collapsed exhausted on her bed. Surely they didn’t think this boring creature would be a levelling and positive influence?

  She imagined the interview room and her mother sniffing into a neat square of cotton. Red eyes pleading the Dean to provide answers, to mould her daughter into a person acceptable to her world, to provide structure and people that would lead by example.

  Sandy’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. That tall wisp of a creature was the last thing she could or wanted to become.

  Joanne didn’t have time or the interest to worry about her new room-mates icy attitude. She just accepted that was the way it would be.

  She was here to graduate and was determined to do so with honours. She wasn’t particularly concerned about making friends or fitting in. Especially if fitting in meant climbing in and out of windows and reeking of cigarette smoke and alcohol. It was very obvious they were different and she didn’t have the need to judge or the energy to try to understand Sandy.

  By the end of term one it was obvious that Sandy was struggling with the school’s high academic expectations. They had seldom spoken openly but in an unusual moment of candid discussion Sandy confided in her room-mate. She still remembered that conversation. It was the first time she had discussed her struggles with anyone and it was the first of many times she would confide in Joanne.

  “I have two options; sleeping on a park bench or getting through school with some sort of pass grade. I don’t know that the last one is possible, my results are already tumbling.”

  She looked at Joanne, her face clouded with worry.

  “What about going home if this system isn’t suiting you?”

  “That’s not an option. And I’m underage so wouldn’t be able to get full time work.”

  A flash of sadness etched on Sandy’s pale face.

  “Go home,” she scoffed.

  “I wouldn’t exactly be welcomed with open arms.”

  Against the odds Sandy scraped through the mid-term exams.

  A few days later it became obvious how she had done it.

  Most students took a break at this time of the year, a short amount of time to regroup and recharge. For Joanne, the end of these exams signified the start of her preparation for the next ones. She had been in the library most of the afternoon sourcing material and methodically making notes. She stopped for a moment and rubbed her strained eyes. It must be time to take a break she had read the page that lay open in front of her and could not recall a single detail of it.

  Joanne opened the door to the room and stopped, her books falling with a thud at her feet. Her desk was a shambles, her study notes were strewn in disarray across the surface and Sandy was staring up like a thief in the night her face frozen in a mask of guilt and remorse.

  “What t
he hell do you think you are doing?”

  Sandy dissolved instantly in a river of tears.

  “I am so sorry but I can’t afford to get expelled. I have to pass. There are no other options and I don’t understand the lessons. I don’t understand what is written on the blackboard. I can’t read it and I can’t understand the words.”

  She sobbed and the sound came from deep inside her.

  Joanne reached for a tissue and passed it to Sandy. Without a word, she then walked out the door, went back to the library and immersed herself in research.

  It was well after midnight when Sandy was shaken violently awake.

  “Have you ever heard of dyslexia?”

  Joanne’s voice was raised.

  “Are you nuts? It’s almost one in the morning!”

  “Listen. Have you heard of dyslexia?” Joanne repeated.

  Sandy rubbed her eyes in an effort to focus.

  “No, I have not heard of dyslexia.”

  “I’ve been in the library.”

  “How unusual,” Sandy shot back.

  Ignoring the interruption Joanne continued.

  “There hasn’t been a huge amount of research done yet. Unfortunately, it is not accepted as a condition with the school authorities so there isn’t any actual help available. In some cases, it can affect people’s ability to read and understand the content. Quite often they will read fluently out aloud.”

  Joanne hesitated and gave Sandy a chance to take in what she had just said. There was a look of interest forming and the veil of sleep had cleared from her eyes.

  “Often those with dyslexia are very intelligent, often artistic and can often have above average verbal understanding if they are read to rather than doing the reading themselves. It can affect their writing as well.”

  Sandy nodded.

  “My writing looks like spiders all over the page but I can draw really well. I can take in some of the words in if I’m reading slowly but not all of them and not any if they are on the blackboard.”

  She thought for a moment and then continued as if thinking out aloud.