Chapter 21

Matt drove to Rachel’s place early Saturday morning. They had decided to have breakfast together before setting off for Ashburton to meet Pauline. Perhaps it wasn’t the best of ideas, because they were both somewhat keyed up in anticipation of the visit, and so did not fully enjoy the bacon and eggs that Rachel prepared.

“This has to be a first,” Matt declared, poking at the bacon with mock solemnity. “Never before have I been only half-hearted over bacon and eggs.”

“I know what you mean,” Rachel admitted with a tight smile. “I confess to feeling a bit on edge over this. I’m sure all will go well – you can’t help but charm her, but there’s an unpredictability factor. I’d hate that to sour our time with her.”

“Well, I’m praying we’ll find a good point of contact, something to reassure her. After all, she only has your best interests at heart.”

“I’m hanging on that,” Rachel murmured, and together they set about tidying the breakfast things before loading the car.

It was a bright winter’s day when they set out. The overnight low had dropped to minus three degrees, and Matt drove with extra care, wary of icy patches along the shaded stretches of road. Rachel wrapped her scarf closer around her neck and watched the sun climb slowly over the Canterbury Plains. The land stretched out flat and open, paddocks rimed with frost, the Southern Alps shining like distant guardians in the crisp light.

They chatted intermittently on the drive – sometimes nervously about Pauline, sometimes about safer topics. At one point, Matt reached across, squeezed Rachel’s hand, and said softly, “We’ll face this together.”

Pauline was standing at the front door when they arrived just before midday, obviously waiting. She smiled, but her welcome was measured.

“Rachel, love. And this must be Matt.”

“Mrs Mears,” Matt said warmly, offering her the flowers he had brought – bright winter tulips. “A little colour for your table.”

Pauline hesitated, then smiled. “Thank you. That’s thoughtful.”

Inside, the house smelled faintly of fresh baking. Pauline had laid the table with sandwiches and scones. Conversation at first was polite but a little stiff. Pauline directed many of her comments to Rachel, her eyes flicking occasionally to Matt as though weighing his responses.

Sensing the need to break the formality, Matt suggested, “I noticed you’ve got the Ashburton Aviation Museum here. Rachel tells me it’s worth a visit – would you like to go this afternoon, Mrs Mears? My father’s an aviation enthusiast, so I’m always keen on places like that.”

Pauline’s eyebrows lifted. “The Aviation Museum? I haven’t been in years ... but I always rather enjoyed it. Why not?”