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Three times that year she’d made abortive attempts to lay a different guy and in despair had even whispered her need to her father Keith, half-hoping he would attend to her. But he’d just grinned, ruffled her dark hair and said she should just wait, that it was happen. Well miraculously it did. In mid-January that summer a much older guy came across her sunbathing in the sand hills, began chatting to her and she invited him to sit beside her and share a cool drink. The inevitable occurred and Greer returned to the bach (an unpretentious style of beach house), a huge smile on her face. It was now fourteen years later. Greer’s parents had long sold the by then little-used bach with three of their four children scattered around the world and the fourth married to a tour operator in the South Island. Greer who’d become a successful novelist had only recently returned from the UK following the end of her childless marriage. Her husband had been fatally crushed in an accident at the. Some tasty food, good times with some college girls, the wild energy of the outdoors ... All that was missing was Heather.Lara emerged from the tent, her hair in complete disarray. She gave me a playful scowl when I chuckled.“What’s so funny?” she asked.“Nice hairstyle.”She nodded contentedly and stood there, looking around. “Do I have time to go pee?”“If you hurry,” I said, giving the eggs a final stir.She sat at the table instead. “Too early to hurry.”“It’s eleven. Hardly early.”“Whoa, serious? Holy shit.” Then she shrugged. “That was a fun night, though.”“It was.”“Are you okay?” she asked.I looked at her, wondering if I detected an apologetic tone. “I am.”She nodded and smiled humbly. “Just checking.”The food was welcome. We ate quietly, still waking up to the sound of the breeze in the trees and the splashing of the nearby creek.“Those girls forgot their chairs here,” Lara remarked, glancing at the vacant seats that ringed the gray ashes of the lifeless fire.“And their.
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