Christmas Holiday Husband by Kris Pearson Page A

her long dark hair bleached and coloured the day they were in Wellington. Ellie adored it, but knew there’d be stinging words from her mother once she returned home.
    But for that week she was unrepentantly flame-haired and free to do as she wanted. She was also newly on the pill, because even at eighteen her periods were still irregular, and her family doctor had decided a daily hormone dose might shake her system into a proper pattern. She’d felt wicked, as though anything was possible...a truly delicious feeling for a girl who’d led a studious and sheltered life. The brief white bikini she’d saved for, and hidden from her mother, summed things up exactly; excitement yearned for but not allowed.
    Ellie had stayed by the pool, watching as her unexpected date cleaned up the mess he’d made. He tossed the lumps of concrete onto the tray of a pickup truck as though they weighed no more than polystyrene, shovelled up the rubble in powerful sweeps, then swung himself into the cab and roared off. She didn’t even know his name.
    xxx
    And all these years later she was in his home, waking drowsily, smiling at a photo of his son—the son he’d never met and must not meet. Slowly the happy memories receded and the dread engulfed her again.
    She cocked an ear toward the next room, but there was no sound. Tony had risen early.
    Her watch said seven-thirty. Not as bad as yesterday, anyway. She showered and began to dress, and was stepping into her white cotton shorts when an annoying background whine swelled into a tremendous thudding din somewhere very close. It almost knocked her off her feet.
    The noise rose to a shattering crescendo and then eased off a little. A helicopter. She’d not heard it land—she must have been deeply asleep indeed.
    She fastened her shorts and walked out across the balcony, hands clamped over her ears. The clattering monster rose into view and hovered not too far distant. It dipped to the left, then the right, for all the world as though saluting her, and peeled away into the vivid blue sky. She stood watching until it was almost out of sight.
    The trees ceased their frenzied thrashing. Stray leaves swirled to the ground. Dogs barked a little distance away, and she heard one of the farmhands yell, “That’ll do, Jess.” Silence was slowly restored.
    Except that Ellie now knew it was never really silent at Wharemoana. There were always engines starting up, or sheep bleating, or the dark bellow of distant cattle. A tractor or quad-bike sometimes chugged along the driveway. Sporadic hammering thudded out as work continued on an invisible project behind one of the implement sheds. The ducks quacked and fussed in the sun. And the sea made a constant soft roar behind these closer noises.
    She sat on the bed and picked up Cal’s photograph and her mobile. She’d phoned him the evening before, but now she longed to talk to him again. He answered on the third ring, being very polite in case the call was for his grandmother.
    “You’ll never guess what I’ve just seen,” she enthused. “A helicopter. Right here at the farm. I’ve just watched it take off. What a noise they make up close.”
    “Cool, Mum. Where’s it going?”
    “No idea, love. It just went straight up and then headed off. It made all the farm dogs bark like mad. Are you being good for Grandma?”
    “Course I am. We’re having pizza for dinner tonight.”
    Oh yes , he has his grandmother well-trained.
    She shared a bit more chat before disconnecting. Then, just in case, she opened the top drawer and pushed Cal’s photo out of sight before joining Ginny and the twins for breakfast. There was no sign of Tony, for which she was grateful.
    “Daddy’s gone in the helicopter,” Antonia said, as though reading her mind.
    “I couldn’t see who was in it. The sun was so bright.”
    “Some sort of forestry business,” Ginny said. “He expects to be back mid-morning. I found a hat for you,” she added, indicating a wide