Dark Mirror

He closed his eyes momentarily, saying something under his breath, then opened them again. They were like a wintry sea, a deep anger in them. ‘Look, I—’

He was interrupted by the course co-ordinator coming into the room. ‘Mr Ranburn?’ she said, advancing with her hand held out as he turned to her. ‘I’m Devina Roache. I don’t believe we’ve met.’

Her eyes discreetly signalled that she was awfully glad to remedy that. She was tall, and her sleek dark hair framed a smooth-skinned, perfectly oval face that had everything in the right places, as did her figure, shown off by a brief skirt and even briefer top that she’d changed into.

Fler didn’t fail to notice the flicker of appreciation in Kyle Ranburn’s eyes as he clasped the proffered hand in his. Obviously not one to miss any opportunity, she thought. She thanked God again that Tansy wasn’t here to be hurt all over again. And was suddenly conscious of being on the wrong side of thirty-five, and that the comfortable cotton trousers and big shirt which she’d considered perfectly suitable this morning for the casual, relaxed atmosphere that the guests enjoyed were neither smart nor particularly feminine.

They hardly noticed, she was persuaded, when she muttered an excuse and left them to it. The other tutors were coming down the stairs now, talking companionably. One of the men smiled at her absently as they swept into the lounge.

He was tall with curly dark hair and blue eyes, and objectively was better looking than Kyle Ranburn. But he didn’t have that indefinable aura the other man had, the pull of attraction that had brought that inviting light to Devina Roache’s eyes, that had seduced poor Tansy. And—

Fler crossed the empty dining-room and viciously pushed open the saloon-type doors to the kitchen. Cut that out! she told herself. The man’s an unscrupulous opportunist. A sexual gourmet in the same mould as Rick Hewson. Worse. He preyed on girls who held him in awe because he was their teacher.

* * *

In the dining-room that evening the long table was the centre of happy chatter and a good deal of laughter. Manaaki wasn’t licensed, but some of the guests brought their own wine to the table, and the atmosphere was relaxed.

As usual they were a friendly lot. A couple of them had been involved in the summer schools before. They joked with the young Maori waitresses and chatted to Fler who supervised and unobtrusively helped to serve when it was needed. She noticed that Devina Roache was seated next to Kyle Ranburn, but although the young woman was sparkling he appeared slightly preoccupied, smiling absentmindedly rather than joining in the laughter about him.

After dinner they spent an hour or so in the lounge discussing their programme, and some lingered on, helping themselves to coffee. It was quite late when Fler, finding the room empty at last, stacked the dirty cups on to a tray and crossed the room to close the glass doors before carrying the dishes to the kitchen.

A man standing on the veranda outside turned from his contemplation of the night and the intermittent moonlit ripples on the sea. It was dark and she couldn’t see his face.

Pausing with her hand on the door she’d been about to close, she said, ‘I’m just about to lock up, but if you don’t want to come in yet, would you put the latch up when you do?’

‘I’m coming in now.’

She recognised the voice and, when he came into the light, his face.

He walked past her and waited while she shot the bolts home. ‘Devina says this room is to be my classroom,’ he said.

‘Oh?’ She hadn’t taken much notice of the programme; the co-ordinators arranged all that. Messy activities were usually planned for the community hall, while those comprising mainly lectures were reserved for the guest house.

‘I’m told,’ he went on, ‘that you’re very co-operative, very helpful.’

‘I try to be.’

‘I wondered if I might have a table in my room. It doesn’t need to be very big.’

There was a long built-in desk-cum-dressing-table, but it wasn’t the first time a tutor had requested something wider. ‘Would a card table do?’

‘Yes. Fine. Provided it’s reasonably stable.’

Crisply she said, ‘I’ll see to it. Anything else?’

He seemed to be hesitating. ‘No,’ he said finally. ‘Except—’

She didn’t help him out. She had a fair idea that he was going to try yet again to justify himself.

He spoke slowly. ‘These summer schools are special. Everyone says there’s an atmosphere about them that they don’t experience anywhere else. Your—hospitality and friendliness, and your staff’s, apparently have quite a lot to do with that.’

‘Thank you.’ From anyone else she’d have accepted the accolade with pleasure. Now she just wondered what he was leading up to.

He gave a sharp sigh. ‘What I’m trying to say is, it would be a pity to spoil that. Do you think that for the next three weeks you could try to forget how much you hate me? For everyone’s sake.’

She didn’t think that anyone else had noticed. She’d not spoken to him at dinner, but then he’d scarcely looked directly at her either. And they wouldn’t have thought anything of it. He wasn’t one of those who’d been here before.

She said, ‘I’ve been running this place for five years, Mr Ranburn. My staff and I are used to being polite to obnoxious guests—not, fortunately, that we’ve had very many. We never allow a personal dislike of anyone to affect the level of service they’re given.’

He stirred irritably. ‘That wasn’t quite what I meant, and I’m sure you know it. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with your ability to somehow tackle an issue side-on.’

‘I really don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘You know damn well, you infuriating woman!’

Fler said coolly, ‘We’re also accustomed to dealing with rudeness. But that doesn’t mean we just lie down and take it.’

‘Is this a royal we?’ he enquired.

Sarcastic brute. ‘I thought you were asking me to be nice to you,’ she suggested. ‘If you expect that while you feel free to insult me—’

‘It wasn’t meant to be insulting.’ As she pointedly refrained from comment, he added, ‘But all right, I apologise for losing my temper. Believe it or not, it doesn’t happen often.’

No, he was a cold-blooded animal. She angered him because she had seen through him from the start, Fler decided. ‘Apology accepted,’ she said. ‘And you needn’t worry that my real opinion of you will be in any way apparent to your colleagues, Mr Ranburn.’ She would be the epitome of politeness and co-operation; he’d have absolutely nothing to fault her for. But he needn’t expect friendliness. That would be asking the impossible.

He said very formally, with just a hint of irony, ‘Thank you. Perhaps you could start by calling me Kyle. I noticed that you’re on first-name terms with everyone else, even those who are here for the first time like me.’

Of course she was. There was never any formality at Manaaki, particularly during the summer school. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘All right.’

‘Good.’ He stood for a while facing her as though undecided about something. Then he said deliberately, ‘Goodnight, Fler.’

No one had said her name quite as this man did, lingering over the single syllable as if he could taste it on his tongue, his voice deep and slow. An odd sensation passed over her skin, warm and feathery, as if he had physically touched her.

She shook herself mentally, and clenched her fists against an involuntary shiver.

He was waiting, looking at her. She hoped her eyes weren’t giving away the sudden agitated thumping of her heart. She moistened her lower lip and kept her voice flat, indifferent. ‘Goodnight—Kyle.’

She picked up the tray and took it out, her hands perfectly steady, her mind filled with dismay.

Packing the cups and saucers into the dishwasher in the kitchen, she tried to rationalise.

He had something, undoubtedly, some kind of sex appeal that wasn’t immediately apparent, not all on the surface, and the more potent for that. The man was an expert manipulator, she reminded herself, obviously with a lot of practice. He knew perfectly well what effect he had on women, and OK, she wasn’t immune.

But she was no adolescent innocent, ready to fall at his feet because he said her name in a way that made it sound special. She was a grown woman—older than him, for heaven’s sake! Even if she hadn’t been wise to his games, she had no reason to suppose he’d have been interested in her! His taste ran to younger women. Much younger. Although Devina Roache, for all the unlined perfection of her features, must be over twenty-five.

Not as much over as you are, a mean-spirited inner voice jeered. You’re the mother of one his conquests! He wouldn’t look twice in your direction.

Stop there! Fler ordered herself, appalled at the trend of her thoughts.

Of course she didn’t want to catch Kyle Ranburn’s eye. The less she had to do with him the better. The summer school this year couldn’t be over and done with soon enough for her.

But it hadn’t even started, yet.

* * *

Next morning eager students of all ages from teenagers to white-haired eighty-year-olds descended on the tiny beach community and were speedily dispatched to makeshift classrooms, all within convenient walking distance of the community hall. By ten o’clock, cars had stopped arriving and relative quiet reigned as everyone settled in for the first sessions.

Fler ushered an apologetic late-comer into the front lounge, and returned to the desk to do some bookwork. The door to the lounge was open to allow a cooling breeze to circulate, and she could clearly hear Kyle launching into his session. He would be accustomed to addressing a lecture hall full of students, of course. Although, didn’t they use microphones these days? Anyway, he had a good, deep, clear voice, easy to listen to...

Finding that was what she was doing, she bent her head to the books.

A burst of laughter came from the lounge. Tansy had said he often made his students laugh, it was one of the things she liked about his classes. ‘With him it all comes alive,’ she had said eagerly. ‘He makes the people seem real, not just words in history books.’

Fler picked up a ruler and drew a precise red line under a set of figures. Tansy had said he was brilliant at his subject. But then, she might have been biased.

* * *

At lunchtime Fler helped the kitchen staff serve salad, fruit and cheese for the lecturers. The students either brought their own lunch or made other arrangements.

Kyle said to her, ‘Do you mind if I take mine outside?’ Some of the students were picnicking on the lawn or the veranda steps.

‘Whatever you like,’ Fler told him. ‘Just return the plate later.’

He brought it back as Fler was clearing away the cheese. ‘Sorry, I got talking.’

Fler reluctantly asked, ‘Would you like some cheese?’

‘Thanks.’ Casually he picked a chunk off the plate she was holding.

‘What about coffee?’

He smiled at her. ‘You do live up to your reputation, don’t you?’

‘I’m doing my best.’

The smile turned wry. ‘You know, I’m not the big bad wolf, and I didn’t gobble up your Little Red Riding Hood.’

‘”But Grandma, what big teeth you have”!’ Fler said.

He laughed, then. He didn’t have particularly big teeth, but they were white and even. He looked down at her, the laughter still in his eyes, making him look—damn him!—more dangerously attractive than ever.

Fler swallowed, clamping her own teeth together to stop an involuntary smile.

Kyle shook his head, put the chunk of cheese in his mouth and sauntered out.

CHAPTER FIVE

FLER picked her way across the drift of pebbles and shells and walked into the gentle breakers, wading up to her thighs before plunging under the cool water.

Visitors were told they should take the short walk across the headland to the longer, sandier and gentler beach next door. But on hot summer evenings like this the sea washing into the little cove was tranquil, almost smooth, and a swim was a welcome refresher after a day’s work in the heat.

It felt cold at first but soon warmed, and she stayed in until the last of the daylight was almost gone from the sky.

When she came out, she was surprised to see Kyle Ranburn sitting on the dry sand where she’d left her towel. He had changed into shorts and his feet were bare.

As she approached he got up and picked up her towel, shaking out the sand before handing it to her.

‘Thanks,’ she said rather curtly. He hadn’t been waiting for her, had he? She’d probably been unrecognisable while in the water. Perhaps he’d hoped that it was one of the younger and more attractive female students.

‘I thought this beach was unsafe for swimming?’ he said.

‘It’s all right when it’s calm, and provided you know where the rocks are. But the other beach is patrolled and better for visitors. We wouldn’t like to be responsible for anyone getting into trouble in the water.’

‘Mmm.’ He was regarding her idly as she dried her hair and face, then blotted the towel over her shoulders and arms. ‘How old were you when you had Tansy?’

Her head went up. ‘What?’

He spread his hands. ‘You look too young to be her mother. You must have been a child bride.’

‘It’s dark,’ she reminded him. Twilight, anyway. Flippantly she sang a snatch of Gilbert and Sullivan. ‘”She may very well pass for forty-three in the dusk with a light behind her”.’

He threw back his head and laughed. ‘Are you forty-three?’ he enquired.

‘No, I’m not!’ she said, ridiculously outraged. ‘I was nineteen when Tansy was born.’ She wound the towel about her waist and tucked the end in. That kind of flattery, she told herself firmly, was so obvious it was laughable. So what if he sounded perfectly sincere? No doubt it came easily with practice.

She thrust back her damp hair with one hand, and started towards the cliff path.

Kyle kept pace with her. ‘How old were you when you got married, then?’

She cast him a frosty glance. ‘Eighteen, and for the record it was eleven months before Tansy appeared on the scene.’

‘I wasn’t counting.’

She didn’t answer that, and as they reached the path he said, ‘You’re only seven years older than me.’

‘Congratulations,’ she said. ‘I thought your subject was history.’

He laughed again, briefly. ‘Were you always this sassy?’

Sassy. It sounded American. Had he spent time in the States? ‘It comes with age,’ she said, going ahead of him up the steep path. ‘I suppose your adoring young students wouldn’t dare try to cut you down to size.’

‘Most of them don’t adore me,’ he said.

‘Just Tansy? Surely she’s not the only one.’

He was silent until she had breasted the top of the cliff. She stamped out a small surge of disappointment. There was something about sparring with him that had sent a surge of adrenalin through her. She’d almost begun to enjoy herself.

She’d climbed too fast, and as she stopped at the top of the path to get her breath, he joined her on the coarse, springy buffalo grass. He said, ‘Do you think we could make a pact?’

Wary again, she said, ‘What kind of pact?’

‘You’ve made up your mind about me, as far as your daughter is concerned. Whatever I say you’re going to hold it against me. We’ve agreed not to spoil the summer school for everyone else by airing our—differences in public. But it’s going to be difficult if every time we happen to bump into each other we come back to the subject.’

‘Believe me, I’m doing my best not to bump into you, Mr Ranburn.’

‘Kyle!’

Fler shrugged. ‘Kyle.’

‘We can’t avoid each other forever,’ he said. ‘And I’m not sure I want to.’

Stupid, stupid to feel that involuntary lifting of the heart, the swift kick of pleasure. ‘Very prettily put,’ she said sarcastically. ‘I’m sorry I can’t say it’s mutual. What exactly are you suggesting?’

‘Nothing that would give you an excuse to slap my face,’ he assured her drily. ‘Not that I think you’d need an excuse, if you got half the chance. I just thought we might agree that while I’m here you and I don’t discuss Tansy at all. In fact, I suggest it’s the only way we’re going to manage to be reasonably civilised with each other for three weeks. Not to mention that I—well, anyway...how about it?’

He was making a lot of sense. It was true that it wasn’t going to be possible to avoid each other completely. And if the bone of contention was made a taboo subject, it ought to help defuse the situation.

‘All right,’ Fler said. ‘I agree.’

‘Thank goodness for that.’ He held out his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation she put hers into it.

His fingers were strong and warm, his clasp firm but not too tight. And when she hastily withdrew her hand, startled at the pleasurable feel of his, he immediately let her go.

‘You’re cold,’ he said. ‘You’d better go in.’

She didn’t feel cold. Her hand must have felt chilly to him after her swim. Obviously he hadn’t experienced any pleasure from her touch. But she said, ‘Yes, I will.’ And left him standing on the edge of the cliff, looking after her.

* * *

Their bargain did make things less strained. True to her promise, Fler was careful not to treat him in any markedly different way from the others. He seemed to find it easy to adopt a casually friendly attitude towards her. And there were times when she realised to her astonishment that she had actually forgotten what he was, what he had done to her only child.

She would pull herself up with a jerk, then. And quietly, imperceptibly withdraw a little.

Except perhaps it wasn’t quite imperceptible. Because Kyle gave her a quizzical look or two, and once a silent, chiding shake of the head, his lips pursed in mock censure.

* * *

Each session of the summer school ran for two hours in the morning and two in the afternoon. That left ample time for socialising and for those staying at the bay to enjoy the beaches and go boating, windsurfing or surfboarding.

On Saturday some decided to visit the nearest licensed premises for a meal and to spend the evening, and another group opted for a barbecue on the beach.

Fler and her staff were invited to join them. After serving dinner at the guest house Fler sent the others off early and stayed behind to finish up. Rae had volunteered to return to Manaaki after going home for her own dinner, and Fler had a short, cooling swim, then walked over the headland in the slowly falling dusk to the bigger bay.

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