The Other Girl by C D Major

Author:C D Major [Major, C D]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2020-08-31T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 25

NOW

Declan didn’t know why he was going there. It was his day off; he barely had one a month. He tried to convince himself he was an explorer, heading north for the sheer joy of the coastal road and the freedom of release for a whole day. The Bedford truck belonged to the hospital. He stood watching the man fill the tank with the rationed amount, the copper bristles of his beard bright in the weak sunshine, chewing on something, a bored faraway look, one hand held out for the money.

Back on the road he had the window down, his elbow up, shirtsleeves rolled over his forearms. In the mirror he watched the turrets and towers of Seacliff disappear in the distance and, as the breeze entered the truck, whipping at his face and hair, he had a sudden urge to holler, to cry out, smacking his hand on the steering wheel instead. He was free. He glanced for a second at the empty passenger seat, imagining for a moment someone else sitting there. A corkscrew head of curls appeared in his consciousness and he shook his head as if trying to shake off the image.

It wasn’t long before the buildings were clustered closer together and he was driving into the centre of Oamaru, passing hand-painted signs to the harbour, crude line drawings, a faded poster for boat trips, sightings of blue penguins promised.

He parked the truck, taking an age to do it, unused to such a big vehicle, back and forward inch by inch, feeling heat in his face as he finally switched the engine off. Stepping out and stretching he looked up to see fat clouds butting up against each other, the sky a blend of different shades of grey, the sun all but hidden. He wrapped his coat around himself, picked up the notepad from the passenger seat and put on his hat.

He checked the rough sketch he had made that morning, reread some of the details from Edith’s admission statement: vague, childish sentences. The ‘house with the red roof’, ‘the house with the dunny out back’, the ‘house by the sea’. He felt a small wave of hopelessness wash over him as he looked across the road at large stone buildings, people moving past on the pavements, shops, barbers, tobacconists; overwhelmed with where to begin.

A woman with a basket in one hand and a harried expression on her face was approaching. Too young, he thought, as he cleared his throat, rehearsing already how best to engage a stranger. He skirted round her, feeling more and more foolish with each step. He could be drinking coffee in Dunedin, reading the papers; not here, wandering streets that were alien to him, pursuing a niggling, impossible thought.

An elderly man in a cloth cap was sitting on a bench outside the tobacconist’s, his two hands resting on his thighs as if waiting for something to happen. Declan stepped into the road and headed towards him.

The man looked up as he approached.

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