Daphne Clair - Grounds For Marriage

On Saturday she and Julian had planned to introduce their daughters to each other over a Chinese brunch at a restaurant in the city and take them to a film. But Sunday they’d decided to spend apart. ‘I can come,’ she said. ‘What time shall we be there?’

‘There could be parking problems, but I’ve got a competitor’s pass. I’ll pick you up about ten.’

Emma had invited her friend Riria along, and they sat in the back seat of the car chattering while Lacey asked Tully, ‘How, exactly, did you get inveigled into this?’

‘I’m a ring-in. Some of the guys in the firm have been practising for weeks—we’ve been sponsoring their entry—but one of them came down with some kind of bug yesterday. It was going to be difficult finding a replacement at short notice, so I got volunteered for the job.’

‘It’s a team effort?’

‘There are some individual events but I’m part of a team, yes. We rack up points for every event entered, then the big one is the raft race at the end. Apparently anything goes, short of drowning the opposition.’

‘Sounds like fun,’ Lacey said.

‘It sounds highly uncomfortable. And I expect you and Emma to give due appreciation to my efforts for the cause.’

‘What do we do? Sponsor you? Lay bets on you?’

‘There’ll be people going round with buckets for donations. But I meant you can cheer me on... and cheer me up if we lose.’

‘What if you win?’

‘Ah! Then I expect the usual winner’s perks.’

‘I didn’t know I was supposed to bring a laurel wreath.’

He glanced at her. ‘It wasn’t a laurel wreath I was thinking of.’ His gaze slipped to her mouth briefly before he returned his attention to the road.

About to snap at him, I’m not one of your girlfriends! she stopped herself. He hadn’t said anything, really. And even if he had meant what she thought—which he had—it was only banter. That kind of thing came naturally to him; she’d been deflecting it for years without particularly thinking about it.

The day turned out to be a lot of fun, at least for the enthusiastic onlookers gathered on the grassy reserve along the beach front, and watching from balconies and vantage points among the houses and commercial buildings a road’s width from the beach. The Waitemata was dotted with small sailing craft dipping and twirling between the bay and the gentle distant slopes of Rangitoto, the island volcano that dominated the harbour.

Officially it was the first day of spring, and balmy sunshine promised a real New Zealand summer, but the water temperature was still wintry.

There were novelty swimming races for the hardy-or foolhardy—involving balloons, inflatable toys and various other props. Dressed in a wetsuit, Tully took part in a couple of those with his team, and they came second in a round-the-buoy relay. Emma was ecstatic when he returned to them after he had changed back into jeans and a woollen shirt, his damp hair slick and black.

To vary the programme a team of life-savers gave a demonstration, and there was a race between three long Maori canoes, their crews sporting the swirling blue patterns of traditional tattoos on their faces, most of them applied with ink but a few the genuine article. The event was one of the most thrilling of the day, the paddles flashing in and out of the water in an increasingly fast rhythm. Afterwards the winners performed a rousing victory haka on the beach, delighting the spectators.

Emma declared she was hungry, and Tully handed her some money and sent her off with Riria to the mobile stands selling hot dogs, chips, waffles and doughnuts.

He and Lacey stood watching the two girls thread their way through the crowd. A gust of wind blew Lacey’s hair across her eyes and she pushed it back, the movement catching Tully’s attention. He looked down at her and smiled. ‘Sometimes you look so much like Emma—or she like you.’

‘She’s like you!’ Lacey said, startled.

‘Her colouring, yes. But in the shape of her face she takes after you, and her hair’s fine and soft like yours...’ Idly he reached out a hand, lifting the strands and letting them fall against her cheek. Then, before she could do it, he carefully booked them behind her ear, his fingers brushing her cheek, lingering a little before he let his hand fall.

Lacey found it difficult to wrench her gaze away from his, and instinctively she took a half step back.

It’s nothing, she assured herself as she deliberately searched for and found Emma’s bright jacket. Tully was an attractive man, she’d always known that. It wasn’t the first time over the years that she had become momentarily—momentarily, she assured herself—acutely conscious of it. Few women would have been totally unmoved by him. Yet he’d probably be astonished if she told him that his casual gesture had made her blood race.

When the girls came back with the food Tully found a sheltered spot on the grass for them to sit on. Perhaps it was the presence of her friend, Lacey thought, but Emma was clearly having a much more enjoyable time than she’d had the day before, when Julian had taken them and Desma out.

The girls had eyed each other like a couple of wary puppies over the restaurant table, and while Emma was quiet and polite, Desma seemed to have an air of wellcultivated boredom.

During the film, a romantic comedy rated suitable for family viewing, they sat together between the two adults, and although they laughed at the comic incidents, when Julian enquired afterwards if they’d enjoyed it, Emma said without enthusiasm, ‘Yes, thank you.’

Desma had shrugged. ‘It was okay, I s’pose...’

As they parted, Julian’s rueful eyes had met Lacey’s. Well, they hadn’t expected too much of this initial meeting. But at least it was a start.

Later Tully got back into his wetsuit for the main event of the day, a team competition involving a water-based obstacle course, makeshift rafts, and a great deal of skulduggery on the part of the contestants, including flour bombs, water pistols and even fire hoses. Tully and his crew survived by a combination of skill and cunning, unfairly disabling most of the opposition, whose craft were clearly less expertly designed. His team was one of only two remaining contenders heading neck and neck for the finish line to a deafening roar from the crowd when a swell from a motorised boat further out to sea hit the two rafts, which veered towards each other and collided, pitching several of their occupants into the sea.

Rescue boats were at hand in case of mishaps, but for a second or two Lacey’s heart was in her mouth as she counted the heads bobbing in the water before identifying Tully’s seal-sleek one.

Emma, who had been jumping up and down and squealing with excitement, fell quiet, and Lacey put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Daddy’s okay,’ she said, looking down at her daughter’s crestfallen face. ‘And it doesn’t matter if they don’t win.’

She glanced back at the water and saw that some of his crew had clambered back on board the raft, but now she couldn’t see Tully.

She searched the choppy water with her eyes, then returned her gaze to the raft in case she’d missed him. No, none of those on board had his tall, broad-shouldered leanness combined with his dark hair. And all of them were looking over the side at the water.

Where was he? Lacey’s hand unconsciously tightened on Emma’s delicate shoulder bones.

Then two heads broke the water close to one of the rescue boats, and the crowd murmured to each other and raised hands to shade their eyes and see better against the glinting sun as a limp form was hauled onto its deck. Blood trickled down a whitened face.

‘That’s Daddy!’ Emma said excitedly.

Lacey’s breath stopped, until she saw what Emma meant. Tully was still in the water, leaning on the gunwale for a few seconds, then lifting a hand to the men in the boat as he pushed himself away.