

# Call of the Morepork

## Raymond A. Porter
Copyright © 2019 Raymond A. Porter. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, without the permission in writing of the publisher.

Silver Ghost Productions

New Zealand

Chapter 1

Schrödinger looked up at her - this young woman, this Annika as she liked to call herself. She was just eighteen and all alone in a strange city but, she belonged to him now and he would take good care of her. His large green eyes surveyed the golden sheen of her skin, the play of light against her shimmering long black hair, and he was pleased with what he saw. Pleased but a little awed by the responsibility that he had assumed.

A guardian angel? Maybe he was... maybe he was a momentary figment of an over active imagination... maybe he was just a cat.

Annika bent down and stroked his fur and was met with an instant and delightful response, a sensuous shiver of the animal's skin, the receptive lift of his tail and, Annika could have sworn, a self-satisfied smile across his feline face. Annika could not quite remember how or when the black cat with his soft white paws and sun-flashed emerald eyes had adopted her. It had been around the time that the Morepork, had started calling by her window in the night. The night bird's call was not unpleasant of itself, but there was something rather ominous and melancholic in its repetitive song: Morepork, Morepork. Annika had been curious and had briefly Googled for some information about the owl.

According to Maori mythology, the Ruru as they called the owl, was strongly associated with the spirit kingdom and was said to originate from the underworld. It was believed that if a Morepork sat conspicuously nearby or entered a house there would be a death in the family.

Annika was a young woman of science. She knew that these mythologies were not to be taken seriously... but when Schrödinger first heard the bird he rushed against the window and emitted a fierce growl, scaring the unseen creature away into the shroud of night. Even Annika had felt slightly alarmed by the sound of her cat's anger towards the bird.

Schrödinger was an enigma as strange as the quantum physics she was wrestling with at Auckland University. She knew one thing, Schrödinger was her only real friend in this bewildering down under - upside down country of New Zealand.

Annika had come from Lucknow, North India. It was a city of similar population to Auckland but very different, a whole world away, a whole culture away. Annika had always been a studiously clever girl, too clever for her own good, her mother used to say with a twinkle of pride in her eyes as she brushed a sheen into her daughter's hair. Annika had won a scholarship and had chosen to study physics at Auckland University. Suddenly she had found herself transplanted into a tiny student apartment in what seemed to be an alien universe. The view from her high window stretched across the sky scrapers and volcano ringed city that clung, suspended on a raft of land between two biting jaws of the ocean. If Auckland were any more exposed to the sea, then it would be an island cut off from the rest of the North Island. Out in the distance Annika's view stretched out to the blue line of the water that sparkled fresh and clean and inviting on a sunny day. A sight Annika still found magical from the perspective of a girl who had always lived so far away from the ocean. So far away that the word itself, Ocean, seemed the stuff of mythology to her.

Annika had adopted, as almost a term of endearment, the name The Cupboard, for her student apartment. It stood high up in a tall wind shaken building, with just her books, and now Schrödinger for company. But... But... She thought with a shiver of nervous excitement...

Tonight she had been invited to a party. A party with real people, fellow students. Maybe she would find a friend... Dare she hope even that her floundering ship might collide with a nice boyfriend?

"Now Kittens, I hope you're going to take things slowly and act sensibly at this party. Things are bound to be strange for you. And don't trust strangers." Schrödinger spoke with a voice that could have come straight from Annika's mother.

"Oh do shut up." Annika smiled. "And don't call me Kittens, I'm a grown woman now, independent and self-confident."

Schrödinger didn't reply to the assertion but his expression clearly said something along the lines of: Right... and I'm a Nepalese snow tiger!

Annika checked her reflection in her bedroom mirror. Her financially constrained make-up was subtle in character but expert in application. She smoothed down her dress, her only dress, and tossed her hair like the Bollywood starlets do in the movies, just before they run barefoot in flowing gowns to the arms of their prince.

"How do I look?" She asked with a twinkle that was only partly fishing for a compliment.

"Beautiful of course." Schrödinger replied as if the question were redundant - Kittens always looked beautiful - it was a fundamental law of nature like Newton's first law of motion or that the number of biscuits left in a packet is inversely proportional to your hunger.

She blew him a kiss from across the room, which Schrödinger managed to catch with a deft flick of his paw. As the door clicked against the latch a waft of her carefully rationed perfume drifted across to Schrödinger's twitching nostrils, and Annika was suddenly gone out into the falling darkness. Schrödinger spent some time luxuriating in Annika's air kiss, which he held tight in his soft paws until he had fully exhausted its magic, and then he curled up on Annika's bed, finding a comfy spot on the Rose-Blush Warehouse duvet cover. He twined round and round until the tip of his tail nestled against his pink nose. He closed his eyes and thought with some concern that really he should have gone with her... You know... Just in case.

The party was in full swing as Annika was let in through the squeak of a stiff-hinged door. The opening projected a trapezoidal shaft of golden light, which cast a welcoming yellow softness against the landing floor. Annika peered in at the throng of people, most of whom she had never seen before, and felt a twinge of panic. There was the usual loud music pounding away. The base notes piercing the velvet quiet of the night like shrapnel. No one was really listening or dancing to the endless loop of Lady Gaga pop, but a party host owes it to the neighbours to share the festivities, to keep them 'in the loop' until the first shafts of the pink dawn call for party animals and students to sleep. Students need a lot of sleep - but not necessarily at night.

"Help yourself to drink and food... Do you know everyone?" A cheerful singsong voice called to her.

Before Annika could reply, Tamsin, a tall third year sociology student with red hair and freckles, had vanished into the small blue and white kitchen. Annika didn't drink and no, she did not know everyone. She knew hardly anyone, in fact even Tamsin who had invited her was a virtual stranger. The shy, quietly handsome young guy with fair hair trying to look cool while also hiding in the corner, did look engagingly familiar though. She thought he looked like a possible yin to her yang and unsuccessfully tried to catch his avoiding eye. On second thoughts, perhaps they were both of the yin persuasion - the hypothesis would need testing.

There was a table generously, but inexpertly spread with finger food; not the kind of stuff Annika was used to, but a slightly drunk girl who welcomed her with 'Kia ora' suggested that the snarlers were a good choice, as she teetered on her heels and bumped soft shoulders with Annika.

"Snarlers?" Annika repeated.

"Yeah... Pigs in blankets. Fill your boots girl."

One thing was certain, Annika was definitely not wearing boots, but before she could interrogate the teetering girl further she had stumbled away into the welcoming arms of a guy, whose attempt at a beard had probably not quite met with the success he was hoping for.

Annika shrugged and instead of the unknown delights of pigs in blankets delicately lifted a sausage roll onto a wobbly paper plate. Her eyes lifted across the table to the drinks, and the shadow of a frown formed above her eyes as she looked with concern at what was on offer. What she wanted was squeezed orange, preferably with crushed ice, she could only afford Raro powdered drink back at The Cupboard. All she could see was wine and beer. There was a choice of wine; red or white. Both options slowly ageing in cardboard boxes, equipped with eager gushing push-button taps. Of course there was heaps of beer in sparkling metallic blue cans... Quite pretty really but not what Annika would actually chose to drink. There wasn't any mineral water either.

Did I mention Annika didn't drink? She had promised her parents that she would stay clear of alcohol while away from home. It seemed to be their major fear, that six months after leaving India their unworldly daughter would morph into a booze swilling gangster's moll; they had heard all about New Zealand, don't you worry.

Well... One glass of wine can do no harm. Annika thought and drew a tumbler full from the Vineyard Medium White box. The picture on the box of a dew-kissed wine glass against a landscape of autumn grape vines held the unstated promise that the contents would be exquisite. The sausage roll however proved to be rather dry, so to help it down Annika gulped from her glass nervously draining half the contents in a single go.

"Hey steady... Hope you've got your beer legs on."

Annika looked down at her legs. They seemed fairly normal to her, though a warm fuzzy blur was unaccountably forming itself around her feet. In fact, her feet seemed further away from her legs than usual. She smiled. The guy who had spoken to her looked... blurry. Blurry, but quite attractive nonetheless. I did mention that Annika didn't normally drink?

"Let me top you up." He said. "I'm Devlin by the way - second year engineering."

Annika was pondering how you go about engineering a second year or any year in fact, when he took her glass and brimmed it completely draining the box in the process.

"Katrina... Any more white in the fridge?" He called over to someone in the kitchen who Annika could not quite see.

She caught just the flick of some blond hair and a swish of a pale blue dress. The answer was in the affirmative but Annika felt no urgent need of any more Chateau Cardboard, not just at the minute. It's quite amazing how this room manages to spin without everyone toppling over. Must be some affect of Riemann geometry, she thought, as her reason flew out of the partially open window and into the settled darkness of an Auckland starry night. Her eyes tried to focus on the shy yin boy who was still making a remarkably good job of pretending not to be there at all. Annika smiled at him, her confidence growing as the wine continued to seep into her bloodstream. She knew that this time he had seen her and caught sight of a blush on his cheeks. How sweet, she thought. But then a slight shadow crossed her mood as she caught sight of Tamsin paying an inordinate amount of attention to the guy. She was feeding him some tiny mushroom volovants from her plate, stroking his hair and kissing his cheek. Annika shrugged - she couldn't possibly be jealous. She didn't even know his name.

There was no doubt that Annika was attractive. Large almond eyes, an entrancing face with plump kissable lips and a slender yet curvy figure. Devlin's keen eyes had not missed these features and Annika soon found herself snuggled in the warm fold of his arm and thinking what a nice chap this Devlin was. When he bent his lips towards her she totally ignored Schrödinger's words of caution, leaned up and took his kiss hungrily. Annika was starved of affection, starved of the warmth of human contact and when Devlin suggested that they might wander back under the moonlight to his place...caught in a romantic whirlwind of her own creation and aided by a little disinhibiting wine, she said yes, yes please.

Annika woke to a sharp stabbing pain that hung ominously behind her eyes. Her stomach seemed to urgently want to leave home and take up residence in the body of a sane person. Her eyes opened slowly, hesitantly to reveal to an unfamiliar view. As they fought to find focus, Annika discovered herself to be in a strange room, clearly a guy's room. There were All Blacks posters tacked to the wall with what she took to be an industrial strength staple gun. (All Blacks?... Some kind of a sports team she assumed). On the window sill sat an extensive row of empty beer bottles, arranged like a collection of fine porcelain. They were displayed with an enhancing patina of age-settled dust. Clearly these were precious possessions. It looked like Devlin had collected the full set. There was the pungent stale-sweat aroma from a discarded striped Canterbury shirt, that hung malevolently from an old chair. As Annika twisted her head, the light from the low sun shone golden and rather painfully into Annika's hung-over eyes. The refracting sunlight sparkled green and brown through the glass collection. Annika felt an urgent compulsion to not remain in this hallowed sanctuary a moment longer. She was stirred to action by a vague memory that was nagging at her from a corner of her brain. Annika was reluctant to acknowledge the memory but there it sat, completely undeniable, like an evil goblin. She sat up suddenly and her head throbbed as she threw off the covers from Devlin's grubby bed, and faced up to what had happened. She had, at the first opportunity, realised her parent's worst fears. Not the gangster moll thing, not quite... something worse - a booze swilling... she didn't want the words to form, not even in her mind, but they came anyway.

Where was Schrödinger when she needed him?

Annika grabbed her clothes and ran from the room. She did not stop running until she had returned to her miniscule apartment, showered, found clean clothes, grabbed her lecture notes and found a seat in the lecture theatre. Whatever words of profound wisdom the lecturer bathed his students in passed straight through her ears without touching the sides. She would have to download the notes later.

Annika made her way to the cafeteria - she needed coffee and water... so much water. Devlin was there laughing up a storm with a bunch of fellow conspirators. The last thing she wanted to do was speak to him, but she did so anyway.

"Hello Devlin." She said assuming a detached and casual stance.

Dipping a toe in what may or may not prove to be a relationship.

"Hi." He said noticing the pretty face and long legs. "Do we know each other? If not, I think we should make it a priority."

Annika looked at him with her wide, almond shaped, bloodshot eyes and did not speak. Were the momentous events of last night such a trivial thing for Devlin? She wondered.

"Oh right... I remember now. You were at the party last night... Monica is it?... Sorry, I got totally wasted last night, it's all a bit fuzzy. Awesome party, yeah?"

"Awesome yes..." Annika said as the last dregs of her dignity evaporated into a black hole, where the laws of physics must necessarily collapse into an unfathomable singularity.

Annika dragged herself back to The Cupboard \- her little apartment too small to swing a cat, even a cat as peculiar as Schrödinger would be unable to make a safe orbit. She sat on the edge of her bed too sad and ashamed to cry just yet. Schrödinger came and sat on her lap. He looked up into her sad eyes, rubbed his head against her cold shivering hands.

"Kittens you are not a bad girl, not even close. Never think that." He said with no hint of I told you so, just sweet unconditional understanding and love.

"I know." She whispered, and as she held Schrödinger tight in her arms the tears finally came large and warm and salty.
Chapter 2

He was on the downhill stretch, just an easy five minutes to the shop now. The rain had held off and he felt at ease on the dry road. The Malvern Star 21 speed hybrid flew past the KFC as he clicked into high gear, his legs still pumping hard. 50, 55 kilometres per hour he estimated, as he approached the corner with the turbulence flapping at his nylon jacket. A quick glance that the traffic was clear at the Give Way sign, a dab of the front brake and he flicked left at the 'Z' petrol station. Just a short climb up a gentle incline and he would be there. His speed slowed. He checked his watch - already five past nine. He was supposed to be open by five to nine, it said so in his job description. Never mind, he thought. The boss probably wouldn't be in until the afternoon. As he passed the shop frontage, before turning up the ally the shop rear, he noticed that there was no queue of eager customers waiting, and the shop was still closed up. So Froggatt hadn't come in yet. Good - saved again.

There was a slight squeal from his rubber brake blocks, and the front suspension dipped under the load as he turned into the courtyard behind the shop and came to a sudden halt. John Burgess eased his leg over the saddle and lifted the bike against the railing post. John's legs felt a little wobbly - age catching up, catching up fast, he thought. He secured the bike with a chain and combination lock and groped in his pocket for the keys to the shop's back entrance. The last downhill section gave him chance to regain his breath. No longer young, he still managed to get around on the bike. Only the steepest of hills defeated him, John really hated getting off to push - it made him feel foolish.

Once inside, he quickly pulled off his helmet and thin fluorescent yellow waterproof jacket. The first job was to turn the sign to 'OPEN'. He switched on the lights and leaned against the counter. His heart was still pumping hard and a tickle in his chest was about to erupt into a cough. When it came, it was a rough and wheezy rasp that seemed to rise up from a stirring sea monster, somewhere deep inside.

He took a gulp of water from his sipper bottle and the sea monster sank back to its slumber. John looked around at the shop, he thought how it had changed over the years. It had once been a specialist technical book shop, but these days the owner kept stock to a minimum and tended to only buy what would sell quickly, anything else could be brought in to order. That meant that the shop was stocked with recipe books, self-help manuals, pulp fiction and romances. Not that John had anything against those genres, he had read a fair share of them himself, more pulp than romance or self-help. There had been a delivery of books just before he shut up yesterday and the new books needed unpacking. It would be his first job... Well maybe after a reviving cuppa - John had his own priorities.

As the day rolled on, underwhelmed by the absent rush of customers, John settled into a steady unpacking of the new delivery of Crying Eyes. The latest best seller from the pen (word processor) of Amethyst Steel. The back room was strewn with cardboard and plastic film, which meant a trip out to the small wheeled rubbish skip that stood within alarming rolling distance of his bike. The skip was shared by several of the neighbouring businesses, as a mutual cost cutting exercise.

The back room was small and windowless, but there was a pane of reinforced glass in the door that led out to the courtyard. It let a little filtered daylight in to compliment the flickering fluorescents. There was a small Formica bench with a tiny sink - hot and cold running water, no expense spared. In pride of place was a bright red electric kettle that snuggled up to a bar fridge where milk and perishables were kept. John sometime treated himself to a lunchtime yoghurt that could be found hiding in a cool corner behind the Pam's blue top. The floor was patterned lino, 1990's style, and John was supposed to keep it swept, as part of the job description. The room doubled for a 'smoko' room and a storeroom, but it was also a sanctuary where John could tuck himself away and read when things got quiet. There was no shortage of books available in fact John had calculated that he had read almost as many books as he had sold over the last month. It was an exaggeration but not a huge one.

John had not been feeling well for some time and now his chest was starting to feel tight. Nothing he couldn't bear just a subtle not-quite-pain similar to when he had smoked too many cigarettes when he was still a young man. He had given that dirty habit up twenty years ago when he had reached his mid-forties. Like all smokers he wished he had never started but when he was young smoking was normal. Cool- yes that's the word COOL. It wasn't cool he knew that now and finally gave up for once and all. It was around the same time that he realized with quiet despair that he would never be getting married, never have a family.

The one he had given his heart to, Dolores, sweet pretty Dolores, had rejected his proposal after a romance that had lasted almost two years. He was heartbroken and had wasted long years hoping that she would change her mind - that he might eventually win back her affection. The years had just slipped away like a slow motion ebbing tide taking with it his youthful good looks and enthusiasm for life. That particular tide was destined to never turn, he knew that. Suddenly he found himself old before his time. A young man trapped in a grumpy old man's carapace with nothing to look forward to; spending his days in unappreciated toil at the Froggatt Lexicon. He could never have imagined when he really was a young man that he would end up like this. Life was an adventure back in the day and he always thought that he would make his mark. He had made his mark but it was nothing more than a grubby stain on the footnote of the book of life. John sighed wearily and fought back the cough that was nibbling away in his chest again.

Life in general seemed to be pressing down on him with a weight that was starting to become palpably unbearable. It was not helped by his boss's constant nagging criticism - OK so he didn't always give his customers the respect they thought was due to them - but that was no reason for Froggatt to threaten him with the sack. John knew the truth well enough, the business was struggling now that online sales had started to dominate the book selling trade. Froggy Froggatt (He didn't call Froggatt that to his face - He was saving that for the day when the chopper fell)... Froggy Froggatt was caught in a spiral of sinking profits and he was looking for an excuse to lay him off.

Why not take your retirement a few months early? Froggy had suggested with a smarmy ingratiating smile. You'll qualify for superannuation in a month or two - why not take a well-earned rest?

John could certainly do with a well-earned rest, but he still had a mortgage over his small place in Ponsonby, and he could ill afford to give up work, not with the cost of living today and the pittance you got on the superannuation.

Once he had cleaned up the packaging waste and returned the back room to its normal sparkling state he took some of the books to the front of the shop and stacked a few of the copies of Crying Eyes in the window. With a concerted effort of will, he tried to make it into a pleasing display. In past years he had always found this an outlet for his creative side. Maybe if he could attract a few more customers Froggy would get off his back for a while. In truth his heart wasn't really in it and his energy was at a low ebb, constantly leaking away like the air in a forgotten party balloon.

A small shop like this was one step away from being consigned to the pages of history, and John doubted that the business would last long enough to see his mortgage paid off. He dreaded the alternative, out of work at sixty four, no one would offer him a job at that age, his house would be repossessed by the bank and he would end his days sleeping on a park bench. A shudder ran down his spine and started him coughing again. He thought of his little Ponsonby villa, the crisp white weatherboard cladding and russet red corrugated iron roof. The tidy little garden he still pottered in. There was no doubt, his neighbours all agreed, he still kept it looking nice even after all these years. He had once hoped the modest little haven might be enough to attract Dolores back but that was just a dusty and fractured dream now.

He checked his watch, it was 10:30, the shop was empty with only one customer all morning, nothing unusual about that these days though. So he slipped into the back room again and put on the kettle. Maybe there was a lamington in the fridge left over from yesterday, he hoped. There was, a cream filled one with a dot of raspberry jam.

Annika stood at the Lexicon shop window checking out the window display. Crying Eyes. That title fitted her present mood rather well. But she had no time for reading novels, nor did she have the purchase price to spare on such luxuries. She pulled out her hand stitched leather purse; the one her dear mother had given to her when she was still a child. All of five long years ago. She carefully counted out the money that she had put aside for the book she had ordered. Annika needed it for her studies. A book that would help her get to grips with the complex mathematics she needed to understand for her physics course. Four green twenty dollar notes and a blue ten. A lot of money that she couldn't really afford. But then she couldn't afford to not have the book. It looked as if she would be living on budget white bread and baked beans or spaghetti again this week.

The door made an electronic buzz as she opened it and stepped inside. The shop smelled of books: printing ink and clean new paper. But hanging over the shop there was the air of a slow inevitable decline. A shaft of sunlight from the display window picked out a few dancing dust motes, which jostled in the slow moving air. Annika was the only customer and she walked straight up to the counter. An old man appeared from the back room, he was wiping his mouth and as he entered the room Annika caught the unmistakable aroma of tea drift slowly across the still air from his breath.

"Yes." The man said as if he were annoyed at being disturbed.

Annika was slightly flustered by his brusqueness and couldn't avoid the blush that heated her cheeks. She thought with sudden surprise how much this man resembled her father, no not her father, it was her grandfather that he resembled. Her darling grandfather who had died some years ago. Obviously there were differences; this man was not an Indian and was a little younger than her true grandfather, but something about his eyes. It was as if they could look into her soul and reminded her of the way her grandfather looked at her when she visited him, and he would take her hand and let her feed his chickens while he laughed with contentment under the North Indian sun.

"I placed an order for a book, you said it would be about a week." She stuttered.

The man pulled out a small notebook from behind the counter.

"What was the name of the book?" He asked rather curtly. "I don't think any special orders have come in recently."

"It's a specialist mathematics book. Towards the mathematics of quantum field theory."

"I should remember something as unusual as that." John muttered almost to himself as he flipped through the note book.

He looked up and saw, really for the first time, the young girl. She looked pretty, a little shy maybe. Peering over the top of his wire framed reading glasses he asked:

"You a student?"

Annika nodded.

"Yes I need the book for background reading, it's not part of the official study course."

"Was it me you placed the order with?" John asked with a measure of growing frustration showing on the edge of his voice.

"I don't think so, he was a... a younger man - lots of curly hair."

John turned his eyes back to the notebook and grumbled under his breath:

"Mm damned Froggatt... blames me for everything but can't even take a simple order himself." Annika could not quite hear what the man had said, but took his mumbling to be some kind of a rebuke directed at herself.

"I'm sorry the order must have gone astray." John said as he looked up from the note book. "Would you like me to place an order now? Do you have the publisher's name?"

The words came out with an officiousness that he had not really intended, and whether it was John's manner or Annika's already fragile state, she was not sure but something precipitated a flood of tears.

"No... I'm sorry just forget it." Annika said as she ran out into the busy street, clutching her purse and quickly stuffing it into her shoulder bag while she sniffed back the unwanted emotion.

"No wait... I'm sorry if I was..." John's voice trailed off as he followed the girl to the door.

He looked up the street to the dairy on the corner, and then down to the crossroads and the 'Z' petrol station. There was no sign of her. John felt slightly guilty. Normally he didn't really care what the customer's thought, but there was something about this girl that had stirred his latent paternal instinct. Not for the first time in his life he wondered why people could never see the real John Burgess, which lived inside the crusty shell that he had spent the last forty years unwittingly building.

As he turned back, his toe kicked against something on the floor. It was sent scuttling across the polished tiles and came to rest against the edge of the counter. John bent down and picked it up. He felt a twinge in his lower back as he straightened up. In his hands was a well-worn leather purse. It still felt warm to his touch, still carrying her body heat. It must be hers he thought as he examined the contents: a few coins and ninety dollars in notes. There were no bank cards, and nothing to identify the owner or how to find her. He shrugged and slipped it in his pocket.
Chapter 3

Annika eventually found her way back to The Cupboard, she dropped her shoulder bag in the bedroom corner by the cheap painted bookshelf. The room felt stuffy and Annika rolled up the blind and looked out of the aluminium framed widow. On a cold day despite being shut fast, it would still allow a cool draft in through the poor rubber seals. Today it was warm and she opened the window to let some cooling air into the slightly claustrophobic atmosphere. She sat on her bed. The encounter at the book shop had been nothing really, any normal person would have shrugged off the rudeness of a shop worker as a triviality, but there was something about the man that made Annika want to be liked by him. She couldn't quite explain the feeling but it probably had to do with her being away from home, and the resemblance the man had to her grandfather. She slipped into the bathroom and washed her face. She looked at herself in the mirror. Nothing had changed, she still looked the same. But she suddenly felt lost and rejected, first by Devlin who had taken advantage of her in such a shallow way, that he claimed not to even remember their evening together, and now by this grumpy old man with his wheezy chest and her grandfather's piercing eyes.

She shook herself, decided that she would get by without the expensive book after all. The money that she had squirrelled away would be put to good use in subsidising her living expenses. She lifted her bag from the corner by the soft leather strap and felt inside for her purse. With a sudden stab of panic, she discovered that it was no longer there. She still had her wallet with the Westpac bank card: available balance $38.79, until her father transferred more at the end of the month. She tipped the contents of the bag on the bed. Her small packet of tissues, her hair brush, the paperback novel that had remained unread for months, the almost empty lipstick, keys. All her stuff was there except the purse. Her shoulders slumped. It wasn't just the money, the purse itself was a tangible link to her mother, an item with a value far exceeding its worth. It must have dropped from the bag on her walk back, she thought. The zipper on her shoulder bag was stiff and she often didn't bother with the nail splitting battle to close it up. She did tend to let the bag swing in an exaggerated arc as she walked, especially when her mind was on other things. It must have fallen out. Someone will find it and take the money and toss the purse away, she thought. If I could get the purse back they could happily keep the money.

Annika curled up on her bed feeling sorry for herself. She closed her eyes and then felt the familiar tickle of inquisitive whiskers playing against her cheek. Schrödinger curled up next to her.

"Don't worry, everything will be fine, it's just a purse." He said as he settled into a deep purring that Annika found so soothing that she drifted into a shallow sleep.

Schrödinger's purring always had that snooze-inducing effect on her.

Tamsin, Annika's almost friend, spotted her across the quadrangle. It had been some weeks since the party and they had not spoken since that eventful evening. It was just after midday and a little light cloud drifted playfully across the blue sky. The cool wind was skittering the loose pages of a discarded advertising circular down the concrete steps, and untidily across to the geranium planters.

"Hi, we're just off to get a takeaway, feel like joining us?" Tamsin called.

There was no way that Annika could afford takeaways, at least not until her father's allowance came through again and that was still days away. She walked towards Tamsin, whose red hair was tied back into a short bouncing pony tail. Without her make-up she looked younger than she had at the party. There was a girlish twinkle in her eyes that made Annika suddenly feel dowdy. She flicked her hair and put on her best smile.

"Sorry Tamsin, I'm a bit busy just at the minute. Got a tutorial to rush to." She lied. "Maybe another time."

"Sure no problem... So how did you enjoy the party?"

"It was cool yes... Awesome."

It was the word Devlin had used and she wished she had not copied him.

"I saw you slip away with Devlin... You want to watch out for him. He comes with a certain reputation. He should really carry a warning label." She laughed.

"Oh... Really?" Annika replied as if she had found him to be nothing but a complete gentleman.

Annika let the image of Devlin float away from her consciousness as her eyes drifted down to her feet. She took the brief opportunity to ask a question that had been nibbling away at the back of her mind.

"Who was that fair haired guy at the party... The one taking refuge in the corner?" Annika posed the question as if it were just a casual remark, a matter of little real consequence to her.

"Oh, do you mean Justin?"

"I'm not sure... You seemed to be the only one speaking to him at the party."

Tamsin flashed Annika a knowing smile.

"He's pretty fit don't you think?"

"Mm, yes he looks kind of nice."

Tamsin nodded in agreement.

"He is nice, and he's rather special to me... One of the good guys for sure - Very clever, taking a pure maths degree. All that number theory stuff is beyond my simple brain." She added modestly. "Look sorry, the girls are waiting I'd better run,you sure you won't join us?"

"Thanks Tamsin but another time definitely."

Tamsin waved a catch you later flick of her hand and trotted back to her friends.

Annika was playing with a new piece of information: Justin. Annika rolled the name round in her mind and then formed the word with her lips.

"Justin" She whispered to herself. "What a very nice name, but such a pity that Tamsin seemed to have laid claim to him."

The end of the month had finally arrived and Annika was saved from total penury in the nick of time by her father's allowance. As a middle ranking civil servant he struggled hard to find the money for his daughter as well as maintaining the household with a wife and two other teenaged children to support. Annika felt obliged to spend the money he sent her carefully. She thought again of the lost purse and blinked back a sudden unexpected moistness from her eyes.

That evening before submerging herself in her studies, Annika cooked herself a vegetable curry and managed to demolish a whole fresh mango for dessert. It was a simple enough meal but very wholesome and satisfying, and as the evening melted into the hush of a starry night, she drifted off to a sleep of rare contentment with the first satisfyingly full stomach she had felt in a week.

Things were not so comfortable for her in the morning. Annika woke early to the fresh early stillness that hangs like a soft blanket, just before the light of dawn rouses the world from its slumber. She was caught in a spasm of unwelcome nausea that twisted at her insides. As she watched the contents of her stomach swirl down the flushed pan, she wondered what had upset her. The food she had eaten was all fresh and well cooked. Then a little tremor of anxiety shivered through her as she remembered that her period was late. That happened from time to time, especially when she was skipping meals so she had given it little thought, but putting two and two and one huge mistake of an evening together...

"Oh no... It can't be that! Please no!"

Annika lay stunned by the unwelcome thought that had gripped her. There was no option, she had to find the truth.

For reasons connected to her own privacy and embarrassment, Annika found herself reluctant to use the Campus Pharmacy in the student commons area, so setting off while the watery morning sun still hung below the horizon, she walked down across the leafy shadows of Albert park, past the bustling early morning commuters to the Unichem Pharmacy on Queen Street. It was a long walk but it gave her time to calm down a little and gather her thoughts. The Pharmacy was still not open when she arrived and she paced up and down waiting in growing anxiety. For the woman who eventually served her, the test kit was just a routine purchase. She passed the paper bag across the counter with a friendly smile.

"Best of luck." She said.

Annika turned on her heels and returned the safety of The Cupboard. She read the instructions carefully. It wasn't a complex process just a simple chemical reaction with an indicator pigment showing the presence of a hormone in her pee (chorionic gonadotropin it said rather needlessly). Annika dipped her sample, waited the proscribed time and looked at the little magic wand. It said 'yes, there is chorionic gonadotropin in your urine - you are very pregnant indeed!'

Annika's life suddenly collapsed around her like a house of cards in an earthquake. She looked again at the wand, the cruel positive result, which would bring joy to many women. It grinned up at her with all the implicit meaning for her future that now lay in tatters. It was almost too much to comprehend. Annika disposed of her sample and washed her hands clean. She scrubbed hard as if she could erase the truth of the test result. Slowly almost in a daze she walked into her bedroom. She had absolutely no idea what to do. She was barely coping with student life as it was. Now she had betrayed her parent's trust in the worst possible way. She knew that they would never abandon her but surely this must mean the end of her dream to graduate and then go on to an academic career as a research scientist.

"I can't be a mother yet... I'm little more than a child myself." She called out.

Schrödinger looked up from his spot, curled on the soft cushion of the straight backed chair in the bedroom corner. His ears pricked and his eyes flashed with a wisdom that was far beyond his species.

Annika's thoughts clashed briefly against a mental image of Devlin. She knew that he could not be relied on to help her, even though he bore as much responsibility as she did for the tiny new life that had completely changed her world. Devlin was too immature, just completely wrong to be a father, at least for a long time. Her feelings towards him had moved from romantic interest, through a brief flash of alcohol induced passion, to disappointment, and then to neutrality. Now her thoughts of him were rapidly starting to be edged with sourness. She did not want him in her life; not for a minute.

At least that was one thing that she was certain about. She would have to carry the responsibility for this on her own slender shoulders. She looked across to the emerald gaze that came from the corner chair.

"What am I going to do Schrödinger?" She asked.

He looked at her inquisitively as if he was pondering his best course of action.

"Lie back and relax Kittens." He said.

Annika lifted her legs onto the bed and lay along the mattress. The cat made the leap across from the chair. He sailed through the air as if he were as light as a drifting dandelion seed caught in a summer breeze, and landed softly beside her. He gently butted his head against her side with a show of irresistible affection, and then delicately climbed onto the flatness of her stomach.

"Keep still Kittens." He said as he rotated in slow circles across her abdomen.

Every few seconds he paused and pressed his ear against her stomach and then carried on with his circling. He was twining a spiral tighter and tighter in some kind of magical feline dance. When he was finally coiled up, he sank down and lay still. She could feel him warm and gentle against her, and then he started to purr and the vibration ran through her body like a tingling massage.

"You don't need to worry." Schrödinger said. "Everything will turn out fine."

Annika picked him up and held him tight.

"How can it be fine? Everything is ruined."

"You made a mistake, and that means there are always consequences to face up to. You will have to live with that. But the world is not such a bad place. You will see."

"What do you mean?" Annika asked but Schrödinger had closed his eyes.

The twitch of his whiskers suggested that he was already dreaming listening to the wistful song of life that rose unsteadily from Annika's womb. His steady purring was almost hypnotic and Annika lay back again relaxed and drifted into her own sleep.

That night, caught in the moonlight shadows, the soft flutter of wings beat against Annika's high bedroom window. For the first time since Schrödinger had taken up residence, the mournful call of the Morepork disturbed Annika's sleep once again. Schrödinger's ears pricked and his fur stood on end as he hissed into the midnight sky with ears flat against his head: Keep away from her you demon, keep away.
Chapter 4

Tamsin had instructed Annika on pain of death (not quite) to meet her at the student commons building at 6:00 pm. It was a curious summons and Annika had wondered all day what on earth Tamsin wanted. Strangely she felt compelled to comply with Tamsin's request. When her last lecture was over, she gathered her things and wandered round the campus for a while and then made her way towards the rendezvous.

Annika was attempting to continue her life as if nothing had changed. She did not want anyone to discover her secret yet and was skilfully playing the part of a normal student whose only worry was her grades. It was a cloak of protection that she had thrown over herself. Almost as if turning her face away from the truth could delay the inevitable.

Annika was not stupid however. She knew all the things that she should be doing. Seeking advice from an experienced adult, consulting a doctor, telling her family. All of this was the right thing to do and she would, but she had to come to terms with the change in her circumstances herself first, before her future was whisked away from her by undoubted well-meaning adult interference. She knew that she would have to face up to the inevitable eventually, but pregnancy is a condition that rolls deceptively slowly, and Annika thought she still had time to allow the reality to sink in and for a logical course of action of her own choosing to form in her mind. She tried to forget what was happening to her body, but in truth every thought was subconsciously coloured by the stark reality. It was not that she didn't want the child, she had instantly felt, along with the bite of terror, a strong pull of maternal love for the nebulous life that had no real form yet.

So that evening, with her feelings buttoned down tight and pretending that she was just a carefree young student, she arrived at the student commons and after a short time wandered through the glass and aluminium building until she found Tamsin, looking at her most sophisticated best.

Tamsin smiled at her, it was a warm smile that made her feel safe.

"There's someone who would like to meet you." Tamsin said as she took Annika by the arm and led her back out into the open.

Tamsin was dressed as if she had a date. Today she looked older more like a member of the faculty than a student. Annika realised that she knew very little about Tamsin, not even her age. Tamsin's age seemed to be a variable. It seemed that she was able to adjust it to suit her circumstances. All it apparently took was a subtle change in wardrobe and the adoption of the appropriate behaviour.

"Annika honey, I knew you'd probably never turn up if I just pointed you in the right direction, so I thought a more hands on approach would be needed."

"What are you talking about Tamsin?"

Tamsin gave a soft laugh.

"Just trying to explain why I dragged you here... Just trust aunty Tamsin." She said with a twinkle in her eye. "Some people just need a little push." She added.

They turned a corner and standing against a wall, his face in shadow and looking almost as bewildered as Annika, was a boy that she recognised straight away. She even knew his name now.

"Justin." She whispered.

He smiled. She smiled. Tamsin disappeared.

"I've got a dinner date." Tamsin said as she walked away. "Now don't you two disappoint me, I'm fully expecting romance to blossom."

Justin held out his hand and the two exchanged a rather formal handshake.

"What do you know about this little intrigue?" Annika asked as she looked into Justin's pale blue eyes.

"You probably didn't know that Tamsin is my big sister." He said as if it were the awful confession of a terrible secret.

"Your sister! No I had no idea... I thought that maybe you two were... You know an item."

Justin laughed and his face lit up like Annika always knew it would.

"I know Tamsin hovers over me like a second mother, but you're the first one to make that leap."

"Sorry... I must have got the wrong end of the stick... As usual." She added with a little self-mocking laugh.

"Tamsin does have that effect on people from time to time." Justin said as his natural shyness started to melt a little. "I saw you at the party and... You know... Thought you were, you know... pretty. So I asked Tamsin what your name was. That was my mistake... No, no I don't mean mistake." Justin shrugged. "Well you know Tamsin... By then it was all out of my hands."

"So I was set up." Annika laughed enjoying the moment.

"No, no I just..." Justin's words trailed off and Annika linked arms with him.

"Let's go for a walk." She suggested not wanting to disappoint Tamsin and her carefully orchestrated plan.

Not that pleasing Tamsin was her only motive.

The last thing Annika really needed at the moment was another romantic entanglement. But then Justin was so cute... So different to Devlin and anyway, she had put her personal problems on hold for a while. Hadn't she?

The strange black cat that had started visiting him was more a curiosity than anything to be concerned about. It was just that it was so unusual for a cat to sit in his garden and look at him with such an intense gaze. And those bright green eyes searched him like a laser as if the animal was trying to read his mind. Thinking it might be a stray, he tried feeding it but the cat seemed to have no interest in his left over canned tuna. Last night he had managed to stroke the cat's head and tickle the soft tender spot at the base of his ears, but then the cat just waked off into the dusk with a flick of his tail as if his mission was now complete.

It was John Burgess's day off and he took the bus across town to the Mall for some shopping therapy, not that he intended spending much. He would have taken the trusty Malvern Star but finding a secure place to store his bike while shopping was virtually impossible. So much for a bike friendly city, he thought. John was in the market for some underwear and a pair of casual shoes. His ageing laptop was also nearing the end of its days, still running XP and he could swear that he could hear the hiss of steam power churning away in the bowels of the mechanism, deep inside the worn plastic case. Harvey Norman had some specials and he thought, as he was out and about, he would just take a look.

The Mall was a decent place to hang out. Clean and bright and air-conditioned. There was usually a modest bustle of mostly friendly faced people milling around at the times he visited the mall. He avoided the place like the plague when he knew that the crowds would be heavy.

He picked up two six packs of Bonds briefs (size medium, assorted colours). He got some cheap Chinese leather-look sports shoes that would probably last a couple of months, and then headed to the electrical store. The selection of laptops was bewildering until you eliminated everything over about $500, then it was much simpler, a choice of just one uninspiring option remained. When the salesman sidled up to him intent on making a sale under the guise of friendly advice, John said:

"Just looking."

He then drifted out of the shop to consider his options at leisure. With the slender thread that was holding him in employment, perhaps now was not the time to think about spending on non-essentials. Maybe he would hang on to his trusty steam powered Acer until it finally expired.

One little luxury that John enjoyed was a decent espresso and the Coffee Barn served nothing but the finest Arabica: in-store roasted. He let his nostrils lead the way across the polished tiles of the mall while the soft hypnotic Muzak caressed is ears whispering (in a subliminal way) spend, spend, spend. John was immune to the siren song. In any case before you could spend, spend, spend, you needed Money, Money, Money. He remembered the old Abba song as if it were still in the charts. Did they still have charts? He wondered with an involuntary shrug.

The choice of which pastry to have with his espresso was always a decision fraught with uncertainty and compromise. No matter what you chose there was always regret that you didn't take the cream filled cherry cake - or whatever else had balanced your fancy. By the time you got to your table you were usually convinced that you had made the wrong choice. What you really needed was one of everything on display. Today he went with the prune Danish, which looked really appealing until he had handed over his money. He was already wishing he had plumped for the glazed apricot tartlet. Maybe he would go back for seconds. He took his coffee and found a table looking out across the sometime scurrying, sometime meandering shoppers. John had broken with tradition today and had taken a cappuccino. The first sip was always the best and he savoured the flavour as the foamy nectar rolled across his tongue. He shifted his weight, the tightness in his chest was more or less a constant companion now, and he hardly noticed it anymore... Hardly.

What he did notice, as his eyes lifted up from his plate, was a woman. Middle aged, still quite attractive. She was dressed in casual elegance and had stopped suddenly in front of the Coffee Barn. She appeared laden with several boutique shopping bags. The strangest thing about her was where her eyes were focussed. She was looking directly and intensely through the glass into John's eyes. She took a faltering step closer to him. They were still separated by the glass partition of the Coffee Barn but John felt a tremor of electricity run down his body as he watched the woman mouth Oh My God... Is that you John?

John dropped his Danish onto the plate scattering flying pastry crumbs across the lacquered aluminium table. He sat open mouthed and astonished. It must be over 40 years but he still knew her as if they had parted only yesterday. He stood, feeling the strength of his legs evaporate as they trembled under him...

"Dolores..." He called.

Within 30 seconds they were seated together. Dolores had aged well, she looked probably ten years younger than John, though they were within a year of the same age.

"Can I get you a coffee?" He asked nervously fully knowing that he wanted a long conversation with his ex-lover, but not quite knowing how to get started.

Dolores nodded, and he brought her the apricot tart with her cappuccino.

"Is it really you?" John asked. "Where have you been all these years? Are you married?"

"Slow down John, one question at a time... I moved to Christchurch shortly after we parted. I was married... A kind man - Alexander Mair, who took me under his wing. He died ten years ago."

"I'm sorry." John said, though the statement was not entirely true.

Dolores stirred a single spoonful of sugar into her coffee and then looked up at him.

"Ten years is a long time, I've got used to the loss. But I still miss him."

"I know the feeling." John said.

Dolores sipped from her cup. She left a little pink lip-shaped stain on the rim.

"What about you John?"

"I never married."

He looked at her with an embarrassed sadness.

"There was only ever one for me."

"I'm sorry John, I know it was my fault that we parted."

"It's too long ago for regrets now." John said even though he knew that his life had been little more than regrets since Dolores had left him.

He took a bite of his Danish but his appetite had deserted him.

"So are you just visiting Auckland?" He asked.

"No, I moved in with Charlotte just after Alexander died. It was meant to be just a temporary thing but the arrangement suits us both. She's just recently got a job in Auckland, so we moved up here."

The magical sound of Dolores' voice drifted over him and he felt entranced by her presence even after all the years that had slipped by. He nodded to her reply and unsuccessfully fought back the sudden urge to cough. When he pulled the handkerchief from his mouth there was a barely visible trace of scarlet on the white linen. It couldn't possibly be blood, he thought.

"Are you all right John?"

"Touch of bronchitis... Nothing to worry about. So how many years has it been? It must be more than forty." John said.

Dolores lifted her eyes and held his gaze. A lot of water had passed under the rickety bridge that she and John had stood on so long ago. Secrets that were so important to her back then seemed not to matter anymore.

"It's forty five years..." Dolores corrected. "I know that because Charlotte will be forty five this November."

"Charlotte?" John asked.

"She's my daughter John... Our Daughter."
Chapter 5

Annika's walk with Justin had been a quietly enjoyable interlude for both of them. They took a short bus ride to the domain and walked up to the museum, and gazed over the sparkling lights of Auckland as the evening bathed the city with a soft warm breeze. They talked of the future, their studies, their hopes and dreams. Justin asked about life in India with genuine curiosity and wondered if Annika would be returning home, when her studies were over. When she said that she would probably have to, Justin responded in exactly the way Annika had hoped. Without over stressing the point he said that it would be a pity if she had to leave New Zealand. Justin smiled shyly. Annika's heart sang but the melody was tinged with sadness.

When their evening was over just as Annika was about to take her leave, Justin took her hands and kissed the tips of her fingers.

"I'll see you soon." He said.

Annika just smiled and nodded. As he let her fingers drop and walked away a little thrill of excitement ran through her body. If only I hadn't been so foolish with Devlin, she thought sadly as she walked back to her Cupboard.

Schrödinger was sitting on her lap.

"Things have a way of working out Kittens. Never give up on your dreams."

John discovered that Charlotte had been told, when she was still a child, that Alexander Mair was not her real father. However, Dolores had confused the truth by telling Charlotte that her real father had died tragically before she was born. Charlotte had constructed a romanticized image of her father as a heroic and handsome figure, and Dolores had done nothing to disabuse her daughter, allowing her to believe in a father who was far removed from the truth.

The news that Dolores had killed him off rather than explaining the truth was disappointing for John, shocking even. He desperately wanted to meet his daughter. She was the only thing in his thoughts now. Eventually he managed to convince Dolores to tell Charlotte that he was alive and wished to meet her. With reluctance, because she knew her daughter well, Dolores finally arranged a meeting but told John not to expect too much.

Charlotte was a successful business executive. Her Auckland job was actually a senior directorship at McCall and Finch, the prestigious Queen Street advertising agency. Unmarried, though never short of a male companion when she wanted one, Charlotte was the epitome of a successful and rather ruthless business woman. On the strength of the substantial salary package that had attracted her to Auckland, she had bought a large house at Mission bay. Her property made a statement to the world: I have arrived. It said rather loudly. The image alone would have clinched the deal for her but the property was split into a main residence and a substantial secondary apartment. The agent from Barfoot and Thompson suggested that it had been intended as a self-contained guest wing, but to Charlotte's eyes it would be ideal for her mother. It would give them both independence. Charlotte found it convenient to have someone at home when she was on her constant business trips, but she was finding living too closely with her mother to be a little claustrophobic. She cared for her mother but found her to be rather pedestrian in her attitudes. A little separation would be good for them both.

When Dolores told her about John, she took the news with rather more indifference than Dolores was expecting. She explained that she felt no attachment to this man she had never met, even though she apparently shared his genes. Suspicious by nature she wondered if this John Burgess might be looking to take advantage of her wealth in some way. If that was his intention then he would be disappointed. But for her mother's sake Charlotte finally agreed to meet her father, on her own terms and with her mother's understanding that she should expect nothing to develop from the meeting. For Charlotte her father had been Alexander Mair. She had loved him as a child, she carried his name and it was through his advice and endeavours that she had realised her business success. This Burgess was a shop worker for heaven's sake. She could have nothing in common with him.

For John the news that Charlotte had agreed to meet him had given him a new lease on life. Even his rattling cough seemed easier. Somehow, even though he had not yet met her, a Charlotte shaped room had been carved in his heart. He had always wanted children, a daughter especially, but that dream had been long forgotten when he had lost Dolores. Now suddenly his long dark night had been reborn as a bright spring morning thanks to Charlotte.

He knew it would take time for her to accept him but what a joy the journey would be. He would be kind and gentle, give her the wisdom of his years, and teach her the joy of literature, the love of books that had always been his salvation. He could not wait for the meeting but by the time he had dressed in his rather dated best suit and polished brogues he was starting to feel a little nervous. He decided to splash out on a taxi so that he would arrive fresh for his lunch date.

At the offices of McCall and Finch, Charlotte was seated at the head of a long polished American Black Walnut table. She had taken little time in establishing herself as the head of her department and looked down at her management team like a queen surveying her minions.

"We'll have to keep today's meeting brief I'm afraid. I have a tedious lunch meeting that I can't avoid."

She looked up to make eye contact with her management team.

"So, anyway, well done everyone with the Mason account. It looks as if it's in the bag. We're just waiting for the final signatures which should happen later today. I guess you can all look forward to a good quarterly bonus."

There was a hum of satisfaction from the team.

"On a rather less satisfactory note..." Charlotte continued as she looked pointedly across to Peter Mayfield who dipped his eyes from her withering gaze. "Someone has dropped the ball with the Adventure Tours TV campaign."

Charlotte paused to let her obvious displeasure sink in.

"Any bright ideas on how we can salvage the situation?"

The room echoed with timid silence.

"No nothing... Why do I pay you people so much?"

Charlotte looked up to the ceiling with dramatic exasperation.

"OK, this is my solution: We need someone with charisma to front the adverts. John, see if you can arrange for Hemi Williams to meet with me."

"Hemi Williams \- we'd have to pay him a fortune." Martin said.

"Not necessarily... I understand he's looking to change codes again and he could well be advised to seek a little favourable publicity. A professional sportsman is nothing without his fan base."

She looked across the exotic polished wood to Martin.

"I am correct in assuming that we still have his manager on our Owes us a favour list."

It was a statement of fact, not a question.

"Yes, but that's getting awfully close to blackmail."

"Don't be ridiculous Martin." Charlotte chastised. "It's just tough business acumen. You must all start to learn to play this game with a full deck. Hands up those who want to end up working for Dalgets or some other second rate agency like that."

She cast her eyes across the table. There were no takers. Charlotte tapped the face of her watch. "Well unless you guys have anything constructive to add I need to be out of here."

She looked across at her management team.

"Nothing more, OK let's see some sparks fly guys."

As the men rose to their feet and made hurriedly to the sanctuary of their offices, Charlotte turned to Mary, her personal secretary, who had been taking notes.

"Mary make sure those letters are ready for when I get back, I shouldn't be later than about two thirty. Oh and see if Tony Jenkins can see me... about three if possible."

"Yes Ms Mair." Mary said and then under her breath, as her boss walked away, made the mistake of whispering... "Don't forget your broomstick."

Charlotte stopped as she reached the threshold of the door and turned on her stiletto heels.

"Mary, you may wish to know that I have exceptionally acute hearing... We'll talk when I get back."

Mary shrank visibly then gathered her things and wandered back across the carpeted reception area to her own small office, which was an adjunct to the large luxuriously appointed office of Charlotte Mair, Director.

"Oh well, it was time for a change anyway." She sighed.

Charlotte could have had a 3 series BMW or a C class Mercedes as a company car. She thought BMWs were rather vulgar and chose the three pointed star to herald her arrival.

John was already at the restaurant when Charlotte arrived from the underground parking. She had chosen Valentino's partly because of the easy parking. It was an entirely decent restaurant without being quite top notch. A place she took advantage of to entertain her less important clients. The atmosphere was secluded so that it was possible to have a personal conversation without being overheard. Despite the name Valentino's the menu was by no means limited to Italian food. Her father should be able to find something to his taste, she thought with condescension.

John looked up, he had been staring at the white linen tablecloth for ten minutes and was starting to feel the eyes of the waiter burn uncomfortably into his assertion that he really was waiting for someone. The woman who entered was clearly a high flyer. The words power dresser sprang to his mind, though he was not quite sure of the meaning. John felt the tremor of intimidation shake him as she advanced to his table. The woman was dressed in a medium blue trouser suit and crisp white blouse and stood on painfully tall heels. She wore strong red lipstick and her eyes looked hungrily ferocious.

Charlotte glanced across the subdued lighting of the restaurant. There was only one man sitting alone and was fairly certain that she had found the right man. His appearance immediately confirmed her preconceived expectation of the man.

"John... John Burgess?" She said.

John struggled to his feet.

"Yes, you must be Charlotte."

His daughter leaned across the table and gave him an air kiss on each cheek. She managed this delicate manoeuvre while making no physical contact with the man at all.

"Have you studied the menu?" She asked as she took her seat.

She had a smile that could almost have been genuine.

"Maybe the lamb?" John replied uncertainly.

He was not used to eating at expensive restaurants and felt uncomfortably fish-out-of-water-ish. Charlotte nodded and waved the waiter over. She was a valued customer and had no trouble in soliciting the waiter's attention.

"We'll both have the lamb." She said to the waiter.

"Would you like wine?" She asked.

John looked uncertain.

"Don't worry about the bill, I'll put it down as a business expense."

John brightened.

"Well in that case..." Charlotte turned back to the waiter.

"We'll have a bottle of the 2012 Kirihill Shiraz."

"Ah yes, exquisite." The waiter said rather unnecessarily.

The meal progressed with nothing more than the occasional exchange of pleasantries. John found that his unexpected nervousness had dulled the edge of his appetite and followed Charlotte's lead in passing on a desert. When the coffee came, Charlotte decided that it was time to put her cards on the table.

"John, it has been a joy to meet you but, I must ask, what is it that you want from me?"

"Want from you? Nothing... What does any father want from his daughter?"

Charlotte sipped from her coffee.

"The thing is John... If I can be brutally honest, I feel nothing for you. My world and yours are so far apart. I was brought up to believe that you were dead, I can't just conjure up feelings for you out of thin air."

John's shoulders sagged a little but he tried hard to maintain his smile.

"I see... I'd just hoped that we could get to know each other a little."

"I really can't see the point in that. I came here because of a promise I made to my mother. I said that I would meet with you and I've done that now."

"So you don't want to see me again?"

Charlotte shook her head. She had been unimpressed with John from the moment she had laid eyes on him. He looked grey of complexion, unwell even. His rather shabby suit was years out of date. The man was in dire need of a decent haircut. He was just not someone she could ever acknowledge as her father. And working in a shop... it was so plebeian.

"I think it would be best if we agreed not to prolong the agony don't you? What can I mean to you anyway? You don't know me any more than I know you. You can't possibly love me can you?"

The words cut deep into John heart... The space he had made there for her shrivelled leaving just an empty hole.

"No... No of course not. There can be no question of that." He said as the words almost stuck in his dry throat.

Charlotte smiled. She felt as if she had successfully completed another business negotiation.

She stood from the table and turned to the waiter.

"On the McCall and Finch account Giovanni."

The waiter nodded.

"Of course Ms Mair."

Then she turned back to her father.

"Can I give you a lift somewhere? I have the Mercedes outside."

"No I don't want to trouble you Charlotte. It was nice to meet you."

His daughter had appeared suddenly in his life, an unexpected gift of joy and had vanished again as quickly as breath on an autumn window pane. Charlotte had left the restaurant without a backward glance before the moisture appeared at the corner of John's eyes.
Chapter 6

On the following day, back at work, John's downward spiral finally came to a head. It threatened to plumb the depths to a level from which a man can sink no further... rock bottom. The day started normally enough, but John's mood of melancholy following his meeting with Charlotte had left him feeling disinclined to put up with Froggatt's complaints, or the tedious irritations that some of the customers presented him with.

The fact that John's boss had allowed him to take the afternoon off seemed to have left him with an even more offensively superior attitude towards him. Froggatt seemed to expect his employee to be ingratiatingly thankful for the time off, even though he was deducting the hours from John's pay. John was no longer in a grovelling mood, in fact he was balanced precariously on a thin wire over a chasm of self-destructive anger.

Froggatt was in the back room when the woman came in. John forced himself to smile.

"Good morning madam." He said. "How can I help you?"

The woman's appearance with flabby jowls and barking enunciation put John in mind of an ageing Rottweiler. She had sprung into the shop full of righteous indignation and was armed with a sufficient lack of self-control to fully express it. She was brandishing an umbrella before her like a crusader's double edged sword.

"You can help me by removing the pornographic display from your window." She barked.

John felt the muscles in his jaw clench.

"The pornographic display?" He repeated with some bewilderment.

The only recent change he had made was to arrange a few copies of Crying Eyes in the window. The rest of the display had been unchanged for a considerable time. The cover of Crying Eyes carried the image of a young woman. Admittedly she was dressed in lingerie and had the arm of a handsome man across her shoulder. To John's critical eye this was in no way offensive. The novel may possibly be considered shallow, predictable, undemanding but pornographic... he thought not.

"The book is as delivered by the publisher." John said. "I'm sorry if it offends you but it's what people want, I personally see no problem."

"It is a heathen work of blasphemy. Surely even an idiot such as yourself can see that."

"Can I ask you to leave the shop madam before I lose my control." John said as his jaw muscle continued to tighten.

The woman painfully prodded John with the point of her umbrella. He reeled back shocked by the effrontery.

"But it's just a romance novel." John said in an attempt to mount a defence.

"Utter nonsense, are you as stupid as you look? The work is clearly inspired by the devil. And have no fear, you too will burn in the bowels of hell unless you remove it from your shop."

John picked up a copy of The Listener magazine from under the counter and rolled it up tight so that he might be able to parry any further umbrella attacks.

"Well?" The woman called.

"But Amethyst Steel is one of the most popular authors in the world." John stuttered as he tried to support his position.

"What are you talking about? Amethyst Steel is of no concern to me. Her work is utter drivel. I'm talking about The God Delusion by that prince of darkness Dawkins."

Despite himself, a smile flashed across John's face. Nearly a decade ago when the book was first released it had caused some controversy among the world's fundamentalists. But the storm had died down long ago. He had a handful of copies left from the original order and Froggatt had instructed him to clear them. He put a couple in the window some months ago at a reduced price to see if they would sell.

"Ah." He said, "I see you are not a believer in freedom of speech."

With this the woman raised her umbrella and brought it down on John's head.

(Did I mention that John was in no mood for irritating customers?)

He swiftly moved from behind the counter and retaliated with a swipe from his magazine. It struck the woman with a most satisfying slap against her foaming jowls. It was at this point that Froggatt emerged from the back room. Seeing that she was now outnumbered, the woman withdrew to the door.

"May the Lord forgive you for I never shall." She cursed and then left the shop with her indignation fully intact.

"What the hell are you doing?" Froggatt snapped. "Where in your job description does it say that you should assault my customers with a rolled up magazine?"

John stared at the man. He could hardly believe his ears. Any normal employer would have come to his defence. But then John realized that this was exactly the opening that Froggatt was waiting for.

"Assaulting a defenceless elderly woman calls for instant dismissal Burgess. Consider yourself unemployed as of now."

John marched to the rear of the shop, his own anger preventing any attempt at negotiation. He unchained his bike without speaking a word and left the Froggatt Lexicon for the last time in his life. It was not until he had cycled a couple of kilometres that he realized that he had failed to call his ex-boss Froggy to his face. Even that satisfaction had been denied him, but it hardly mattered now, it would be unlikely that he would ever see the man again.

For a brief interlude John suddenly felt free as if a load had been lifted from his shoulders. But then the reality struck home. He was without a job, without the means to support his mortgage. He seemed to be cycling along a dark tunnel that was leading to a precipitous abyss.

His legs pumped hard as he rode in low gear up the hill, turning left at the brow his mind was replaying the scene from the shop and as he eased off the pedalling to regain his breath John failed to notice the young dark haired woman step onto the pedestrian crossing.

There was no blood, no broken bones, not even a bruise but two figures and a trusty Malvern Star became intrinsically, legs in the air, entangled on the crossing.

"Why don't you look where you're going?" John raged as he lifted his machine and checked for damage.

(Just a slight scuff of the pedal rubber and a misaligned mirror.)

"Why don't I look where I'm going?" Annika called back "I was on the crossing!"

Suddenly they recognised each other.

"Oh it's you... " Annika said as she brushed down her jeans.

(They were meant to have the distressed look and the collision had rather enhanced the effect.) Annika was already starting to see the funny side of the accident.

"I'm sorry about rushing out of your shop the other day. There were other things on my mind." She said in an attempt to take the heat away from the argument.

John took a deep breath. He discovered that he could not be angry with the girl. With Froggy and the Rottweiler woman yes, but not this innocent child.

"No, I was a little short with you... It was my fault."

"Can we agree on fifty-fifty?" Annika smiled as she saw him look back at her with those grandfatherly eyes.

John mounted his bike.

"It's a deal." He said as he started his push-off.

Then he suddenly stopped.

"Oh... Oh yes..." He said as his brakes squealed. "I think I've got something of yours."

"Really?" Annika replied.

"Do you own a small leather purse?"

Annika's heart danced for an instant.

"Yes, yes have you found it?"

"You dropped it in the shop but there was no address so I was not able to return it. I slipped it in my pocket... It's at home."

"Maybe I'll come and call at the shop tomorrow and collect it." Annika suggested.

"That's not really possible I'm afraid. You see I've just been fired."

"Oh I'm sorry... Whatever for?"

"It had been coming for a long time if I'm honest... "

John did not go into the painful details.

"Maybe you could come to my house and collect your purse." He added.

John gave her his address and continued his ride home. His inadvertent assassination attempt on the girl had surprisingly lifted his spirits a little. But later he made the mistake of starting to brood over his ill fortune.

By the next day John was already starting to sink into a depression. The future looked bleak through his jaded eyes. No job, no money. No money, no mortgage payments. No mortgage payments, no house. It all seemed cruelly inevitable. The cough that seemed to have retreated was back and the tightness in his chest was now starting to focus itself in an edge of constant vague pain.

A couple of days passed before Annika found herself looking at the neatly trimmed garden and the inviting frontage of John Burgess's modest house. As she was admiring its welcoming simplicity his face appeared at the window. She saw not just the grumpy old man with the eyes of her grandfather, but maybe a potential friend. Someone she could possibly confide in.

John opened the door. He had not shaved and there were dark circles under his eyes. He looked as if the weight of the world was pressing down on his tired shoulders.

"Hello again... Sorry I don't know your name." He said as he held himself defensively against the half opened door.

"Annika." She said.

"I'm John, John Burgess." He replied.

"I know it was on the note with your address."

John nodded. "Yes of course." Annika... he thought - the name sounded nice. "I'll just get your purse."

He turned back from the door. Annika didn't want him to slip away so easily so gathering her courage she spoke.

"I don't want to seem pushy but I brought cake... Maybe we could share morning tea."

John paused, he had certainly not expected that the pretty young woman would want to spend time with him, and besides he was not feeling very sociable. He turned and looked into her eyes. Annika smiled and a little of his frost melted.

"Oh... Well yes that's kind of you."

He opened the door wider and invited Annika in.

"Come into the kitchen I'll put the kettle on. Do you like tea?"

"I'm from India." She smiled. "Of course I like tea... Milk and one sugar please."

Annika drew out a plastic container from her shoulder bag and placed it on the bench top.

"Cupcakes they look delicious. Did you make them?" John asked as he realized that he had not bothered with breakfast.

"I don't really have time, or the facilities, for baking... Shop bought I'm afraid."

"Well they look very nice anyway."

John disappeared into his bedroom and came back with Annika's purse.

"I looked inside to see if I could find an address but there was nothing. Your money is still there."

"Thank you so much. Would you be offended if I offered you a reward?"

"Not offended Annika no... But a reward is quite unnecessary."

"OK." She said softly as she clutched the purse to her cheek.

"This old thing has a lot of sentimental value to me. I can certainly use the money but it's the purse that really matters."

"Then it does my heart good to have been able to restore it to you."

Annika smiled at him. This man had made her cry at their first meeting and had then run her down on a pedestrian crossing... Not a great start, she thought.

The kettle sang, the tea was mashed, the cupcakes were munched and the two people settled into each other's company with unexpected ease. John told Annika about his daughter, how he had discovered her existence after so long and how he had felt painfully rejected by her. It was completely unusual for John to open up to people like that but he felt that in another universe where wishes were granted, this child might almost have been gifted to him as a granddaughter. He went on to explain how he came to be dismissed from his job.

(The great Rottweiler and Frog incident of 2019.)

He continued with his concerns of being able to find another job at his age. Annika responded by telling John about her own troubles, just some of them, loneliness, her constant shortage of money and the difficulty in coming to terms with life in a strange country after leading a rather sheltered life among the ancient palaces and monuments of Lucknow. She did not yet feel comfortable enough to reveal her most intimate secret. Only two creatures in the world knew about that tight secret and one of them was a rather peculiar cat, whose very existence she sometimes questioned. She didn't mention Schrödinger to John, just in case he came to the quite reasonable conclusion that she was a mad woman. She did allude to the presence of a certain young man who had rather caught her attention, and John smiled to himself as he remembered his own youthful romances. Annika then hinted at the possibility that she may have to abandon her studies. She blamed her difficult financial position for why she might have to drop out.

In a way it helped John with his own problems, feeling that he was not alone in facing an uncertain future. The meeting ended with an exchange of numbers and although he did not really expect Annika to call, he was pleased to have her number, it showed that she trusted him and for John that in itself was a precious gift. The paternal hopes that Charlotte had so easily dashed were being unexpectedly re-kindled. It would not take much for Annika to fill the void in his heart. He felt the thought curl over him like the warmth of a log fire on a winter's night, but then dismissed the idea as the ravings of a man old before his time.

Annika returned to her little apartment. She found Schrödinger sitting on her desk, looking like an Ancient Egyptian statue locked in deep meditation. Annika danced across the room and showed the cat her recovered purse.

"I was a little nervous in going to meet Mr Burgess, but he was quite kind when I got to know him."

"John Burgess has a good heart but has had more than his share of bad fortune." Schrödinger stated.

"How on Earth can you know that Schrödinger? " Annika laughed.

"I'm no ordinary cat... You may have noticed. If I may give you some advice Kittens, I think you should get to know that man better. Go and make proper friends with him. I think he might need you as much as you might need him. It would be a pity not to take advantage of the opportunity before it's too late."
Chapter 7

Annika was continuing her studies with the unconscious diligence that came naturally to her. Though with each day that passed, she was starting to feel the pointlessness of her efforts. Almost a month had rolled by since she had discovered that she was pregnant. She felt caught in a dilemma, the desire to fulfil her dreams pulled her in one direction, but the reality of her situation made that dream now seem an impossibility and pulled her towards the inevitability of returning home with her tail between her legs. Common sense had told her to face up to the situation, to withdraw from university and put her silly ambitious dreams behind her. She felt the bite of shame at continuing to drain her parents' scarce resources on an endeavour that now seemed bound to end in failure.

Annika had still not yet found the courage to tell anyone that she was pregnant. Even her email exchanges with her family were filled with nothing but talk of her studies and light hearted trivialities. She had briefly mentioned meeting a handsome boy, and this alone had caused her parents anxiety. How could she possibly tell them her secret?

The call from John Burgess came out of the blue as she was crossing the campus grounds, between lectures. His voice was like an oasis of down to earth reality.

"Annika, Hi. I was just wondering if..."

John hesitated as if he were in danger of making a fool of himself but then plunged in with the words that he had rehearsed in his mind.

"I rather surprised myself by enjoying our morning together the other day, and I got the feeling that you did too. I just wondered if you might like to come for tea one afternoon."

"OK, Yes, I'd like that. I enjoyed our conversation, maybe there are some things that I can talk to you about... I could use an understanding ear... I have no lectures on Wednesday afternoon if that suits you."

"I'm flattered that you think me understanding Annika, most people seem to take a different view."

"Well, you can be a bit grumpy at first sight." She laughed "But I think I've caught a glimpse of the real you inside your shell. I rather like that person."

"Oh... that's a very kind thing to say." There was a tremble of emotion in John's voice, a kind word floating in his direction was a rare occurrence these days.

"As you know since I lost my job, I have plenty of time on my hands at the moment. Wednesday would be perfect. Shall we say three thirty?"

"OK Mr Burgess, I'll see you on Wednesday. Shall I bring something?"

"Oh no, this will be my treat and Annika, please call me John."

"I will Mr. John, thank you."

As she ended the call Annika felt that a friend had reached out to her. Someone with whom she might at last be able to unburden her secret. She suddenly realised that this stranger was easy to talk to. He had an inner kindness that she felt sure would allow her to reveal her difficulties without being judged. She would seek his advice as if he really was her grandfather. The call had definitely cheered her up.

As she lay in her bed that night, with the stars hung in the pure stark air shining through her window like diamonds on a velvet cloth, she heard the muffled flutter of wings and saw the flash of feathers across the pale moon. Schrödinger was up from his curled position in a flash, and stood on the table under the window with his paws against the glass. His tail twitched as they both heard the Owl's call. Schrödinger turned his emerald eyes to Annika and knew with infinite sadness, that the night creature had claimed its prize, and would trouble her no more.

It was Wednesday morning and John rose with a silvery thread of happy expectation woven into his day. Sharing afternoon tea with someone was such a trivial thing, and yet he seemed to draw strength and pleasure from the prospect. As the morning drew on he consulted his online bank account. The monthly mortgage payment which was on direct debit had been taken. There were power, telecom and water rates all due. It left him little from his final salary payment, that seemed to have evaporated before his astonished eyes in just a few days. He had no option left, although it seemed to strip him of his last shred of his dignity. For the first time in his life, he would have to sign on for Social Welfare. The Dole. Even so, he knew that it would not be enough and that soon he would sink even further into poverty.

John had never made a fortune but he had always been careful with his money, always done the right thing, always paid his way. He could not understand how he could have ended up like this after a lifetime of hard work. It seemed so unfair when others seem to grow rich with little effort. John felt a twitch of pain and the tickle in his chest urgently demanded a cough. The effort of coughing seemed to drain his energy and he sat for a while looking out at his garden. _Would he really lose this too when they took his house away?_ The thought was unbearable. As he looked at the sun flashing bright against the scarlet geraniums, that he had tended with such care over the years, he suddenly knew that he would have to leave all this behind. All his quiet happy memories would disappear when his house was repossessed.

From the shadows under the bottle brush he caught a glimpse of the black cat again, as it emerged from the shade and walked along the edge of the low box hedge. Once more the animal seemed to be staring at him as it sat quite still, gazing at him though his window, with those piercing emerald eyes. There was something about the cat that seemed eternal, as if it had lived and roamed the earth forever. The strange notion eased his troubled thoughts and somehow turned his mind to the pretty face of Annika. John shook himself from his self-pity and went to the door to call to the cat, but it had already gone, as if it had satisfied its curiosity.

He knew that he had a little over twenty dollars in his wallet, and that was enough to buy a splendid cake. A cake worthy of the sweet child that had suddenly come into his life like a breath of perfumed summer air. After lunch he fitted the carrier basket to the Malvern Star and cycled the almost five kilometres to the _Mr Pickwick Bakery_. John looked at the cakes on offer like an eager child, with his nose pressed against a sweetshop window. There was the tantalizing smell of fresh baked bread and the vanilla sweet aroma of cakes and biscuits. Despite the overwhelming choice on offer, John knew at once what he must buy. It was a Victoria sponge with oozing layers of deep red cherry jam, alternating with layers of thick fresh cream. The top was decorated with blueberries and delicate curls of chocolate. The assembly was finished with a light dusting of icing sugar. It was without doubt the finest cake ever created in the history of cakes. No way could he really afford such luxury but felt no twinge of guilt as the cake was carefully boxed for him. With an empty wallet but a full heart John delicately lowered his precious cargo into the basket and rode home through the sparkling sunshine.

He looked at his little house, he had lived there for four decades and this place was still his home, still his haven. But for how much longer he did not know. How he wished he had been able to pay off the mortgage earlier. That had been his plan long ago, but back then he had hoped there might be two incomes coming in to carry the debt. Dolores had been driven by other ideas, dreams and hopes of her own in which he would play no part. John couldn't be angry with her, she had done well and had raised a successful daughter. He hoped that Charlotte was happy with her success, but he doubted it, at their short meeting she had seemed hard driven and incapable of love.

John put his worries on hold, today he was entertaining. He found a crisp white table cloth and searched his cupboards for the fine china that his aunt had left him in her will. The cake was lifted onto a plate and took centre stage on the table. It was already three and John watched the second hand sweep across the face of his wall clock and smiled with anticipation.

Annika had woken that morning feeling a little unwell, she had cramps and felt generally out of sorts. Schrödinger seemed to hover over her with knowing concern. She lay in bed late with no energy for attending lectures, despite the twinge of guilt that competed with her nausea.

"You should drink some water." Schrödinger said as Annika slid from her bed.

It was late morning, nearing lunch time but Annika had no appetite. She was suddenly struck by a wrenching pain, and as she stood a pool of blood gathered at her feet as it flowed warm and sticky down her legs. She felt faint and leaned against the bedroom chair to steady herself.

Schrödinger nudged her phone from the table.

"Call an ambulance." He said.

She looked at him with fear in her eyes as she took the phone with her trembling fingers.

"It will be fine Kittens. Trust me, just make the call..."

She had been dozing, maybe they had given her something to make her sleep. Annika knew that she was in the hospital the instant that her eyes opened, into the harsh antiseptic brightness of the room.

"How are you feeling?" A smiling face asked as the nursed gently attached a blood pressure cuff to her arm.

The nurse's kindness almost brought tears to Annika's eyes. Annika had already guessed what had happened.

"I'll get the doctor to come and have a few words with you now that you've woken up." The nurse said as she recorded the blood pressure reading on Annika's chart.

She smiled again and stroked Annika's forehead with a soft cool hand just like the most caring nurses were supposed to do.

The doctor, a middle aged woman told her that she had suffered an early term miscarriage. Annika discovered that it was not that unusual, and there would be no long term consequences for Annika's health. She greeted the expected news with tears that flooded her eyes until they brimmed and cascaded across her cheeks and down to her pillow. The tears were of desperate sadness for the loss of the fragile life, that she had nurtured for just a few short weeks. But they were also draped with a feeling of guilt as the tears also spoke of relief. Relief that her problem had been resolved without her having to do anything. Her secret would now never need to be disclosed to anyone.

When her visitors came, she first saw Tamsin, who flapped in with bustling anxiety intent on mothering Annika. The news of the flashing lights and siren had travelled rapidly across the campus. Then Annika saw Justin hovering behind his sister, looking worried. She smiled. _Justin had come_ , she thought.

"How are you darling?" Tamsin asked as she took Annika's hand.

"It's nothing really, I'm fine. I had a fainting spell, probably overwork. They want to keep me in overnight but I'll be home tomorrow."

Tamsin nodded.

"We'll take care of you, don't worry about a thing."

"I was so worried." Justin said as he handed Annika the modest bunch of flowers that he had been clutching.

"Oh these are beautiful." She said and then the tears filled her eyes again.

John had watched the hands of his clock slide round the dial. It was finally time, the appointed hour and Annika would be here soon. He went to the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil. He couldn't remember when he had last felt so happy and over something as simple as an afternoon tea. Even his lunch with Charlotte, which should have been a highlight, had been tinged with nervous anticipation and had ended in heartbreak for him.

The clock said three forty two... _She'll be here soon, must have been delayed somewhere,_ he thought. At ten minutes to four he put the kettle on again to re-boil. At five he knew that she was not coming. Not even a phone call to explain. John slumped into his chair, the cake that had held such promise now looked like a monument to his stupidity. _Why would a pretty young thing like Annika want to spend time with an old fool like me? I must be more stupid that I thought._

The cake was left untouched. Two days later, as the cream had started to sour, John finally threw it out, untasted along with the last dregs of his withering hope. His sadness had finally boiled up into anger and he cursed the younger generation. Their lack of consideration for others. _They put themselves at the centre of the universe and did not care a jot for the feelings of others_. As he formed the angry thoughts he heard the chimes of his phone. It was Annika calling... _How dare she?_ The call went unanswered, as did her second attempt. The sound of Annika's third try was drowned by Johns persistent rattling cough. But he would not have answered it anyway.

That night, as John sat staring out of his window, he saw a shadow glide silently towards his bottle brush tree. The red flowers cast colourless and silvery under the pale light of the moon rocked gently as the bird found a perch. Enveloped in a moon-shadow, the shape of the bird was indistinct but he caught a flash of its large night-bird eyes as the creature turned its head towards his window. As John turned away to go to his bed he heard the soft call: _Morepork., Morepork_ It sounded peaceful to John as if the bird were calling him home. Home from a long and arduous journey for a well-earned rest.
Chapter 8

Annika was back home and feeling well again. The anxiety of the last weeks had built up and then come to a head in the recent events. Her emotions were coloured by sadness and relief. Mostly she was determined never to make the same mistake again. The next time she was blessed with a baby it would be by choice and would be welcomed with joy.

On a more mundane level, she found herself busy in catching up with the work she had missed, and in diverting Tamsin's good intentions that seemed in danger of overwhelming her. Both Tamsin and her brother, Tamsin's _sweet_ brother, had shown themselves to be caring friends even though they did not know the full fact behind of her illness. It was clear to her that she was not alone in New Zealand any more. The thought reminded her of John Burgess and the missed afternoon tea. She desperately did not want him to think that she had failed to appear because of something trivial or worse still, she had just not bothered to go. She had made several attempts to call him but her calls were not taken. She thought he might be angry. It was not a situation that she wanted to continue and decided that she would go to his house and explain in person.

She couldn't get away until the late afternoon and took the bus across to Lincoln Street and then made the short walk until she was standing opposite the white picket fence in front of John's house. It was the soft part of the day when the afternoon is slowly drifting into the quietness of evening. The tree lined street was hushed, just the pleasing rustle of leaves stirring in the breeze. Annika stood still, looking at John's white house trying to summon the courage to march across the road and knock. In the distance a dog was faintly barking against some imagined intruder and then a small car rolled past, its lights already on, lifting a whirlwind of harsh and bitter road dust that pranced about into Annika's face. There was no point in just standing there and with a quick check of the traffic she crossed the road and tapped on the door.

Despite her best resolve, it was a rather tentative tap and there was no response. The thought that John might be out came to her almost as a relief. _She could leave a note in his mail box and then it would be up to John to reply if he wanted,_ she thought. Just to make sure she knocked again, this time with a little more confidence. She heard a deep troubling cough from inside and after a few moments the door was opened, just a crack and a pair of eyes peered out shining into the evening.

John was not looking well, in the few days since she had last seen him he seemed to have aged.

"What do you want?" He said, his voice was tinged with a wheezy edge of someone having a mild asthma attack.

It was the tone of his voice though, the understated anger, that expressed all that Annika had feared.

"Don't be cross Mr. John. I'm sorry I didn't come... I tried to ring you."

"You're not interested in me girl. I was foolish to think that I'd found a friend."

"No that's not true. I had a good reason for not coming."

"Something more interesting to do?"

"No I was ill, taken to hospital."

John was not sure if he could believe her. He looked deep into her eyes with a soul searching glare.

"Please Mr. John, let me explain... You are my friend, I couldn't bear to hurt your feelings."

The door opened a little wider and a beam of yellow electric light fell across Annika's face. John watched in silence as Annika dabbed at her eyes with a tissue.

"Now there's no need for tears Annika... OK, you'd better come in then and tell me what happened."

John led her to the kitchen.

"I suppose you want tea now that your here." John said as he filled the kettle.

Annika allowed herself a little nervous laugh.

"Well if it's no trouble..."

"I don't know what it is about you girl, but I just can't stay angry with you."

Annika smiled shyly and John already knew, whatever her excuse might be, that he had already forgiven her.

"So you were ill, I'm sorry to hear that."

Annika thanked him and wondered how much of the truth she would tell him. In the end it became obvious. She would tell him everything.

"Can I tell you my story Mr. John? It's one that I've not told anyone, not my family not my friend Tamsin, not Justin..."

John nodded.

"Here take you tea, milk and one sugar. If it will help you get it off your chest, then yes I'd like to hear your story."

Annika explained about the party, the drunken mistake she had made with Devlin, and then the alarming discovery that she was pregnant. She told him of her uncertainty, her foolish attempt to ignore the problem. All the while John listened without speaking, but his expression was one of gentle sympathy.

"I had started thinking of you as my sort of Kiwi Grandfather... I hope that doesn't offend you."

"How could that offend me?" John said as he felt Annika suddenly flood into the vacant hole that Charlotte had left in his heart.

He struggled to prevent the emotional waver of his lower lip and sniffed hard.

"When I got to know you better, I decided that you were a kind man, someone that I could talk to... So, I'd made up my mind that when I came to tea I would tell you about my problem and ask your advice. But it didn't quite go to plan. On the day we had arranged to have tea, I woke up feeling unwell. There was pain and blood... I called an ambulance."

"Oh you poor child." John said. "And you had to cope with this all on your own?"

"I had my cat." Annika added with a little smile. "Well it was a miscarriage. I suppose you guessed. So I was in no fit state to do anything for a day or two. But I did ring as soon as I was able."

"I know you did girl... I was stupidly cross that you hadn't shown up. I jumped to the wrong conclusions."

John stood up and held his arms out to her.

"Come here." He said "I'm so sorry."

John held her in his warm arms and felt the dampness of her tears against his shirt. When the gentle hug had run its course Annika dabbed her eyes and blew her nose.

"Well that's my story... How have you been? Have you had any luck in finding a job?"

John shook his head.

"Things are looking a bit bleak... My main fear is that I will lose my house."

"Oh Mr. John no, that would be terrible. What will you do?"

John shrugged.

"I wish I knew."

Annika looked around the tidy room, at the memories that must be etched into its fabric.

"Your house must be quite valuable, Auckland prices have been rising quite fast according to what I hear on the news. You might even be quite wealthy without realizing it."

John looked at Annika with an expression of surprise.

"You think so... But if I did manage to sell the house and pay off the mortgage, I'd still need to find somewhere else to live so I'd be no better off."

"Well I'm no expert in the field, but I know for a fact that you can buy property away from the main centres at half what they cost in central Auckland."

"Is that right?" He said as the cogs in his head started to grind through a quick calculation.

"That might mean, and I don't want to raise your hopes unnecessarily..." Annika continued. "It might mean that if you sold this house you could buy cheaper elsewhere, or maybe take a retirement apartment and end up with a nice little nest-egg as well."

John was suddenly caught up in the idea. He was fairly sure that Annika was wrong, that once he had thought through the ins and outs, it would not be worth the trouble. But it was a nice fantasy to distract himself with for a while. He had completely overlooked the fact that his house was a valuable asset, even if he still owed money against it. His house had always been just his home he had never thought of it in financial terms before.

"If I ended up with a nest-egg I could travel. I've always wanted to see Queensland or maybe travel up to the Islands. I was always entranced by the idea of visiting Fiji. I might have had my honeymoon there if things had worked out different."

"Well why not talk to a Real Estate agent? It can do no harm to get the facts."

"You know Annika I might just do that."

John put the suggestion in the ' _to do'_ box in the front corner of his mind. _I may as well look into it,_ he thought, _I've precious little else to do at the moment._

Then his thoughts turned to Annika's welfare.

"So how are your own finances at the moment?" He asked. "I know things are tight for you as well."

"Well it's not easy, that's for sure. Now that my other problem has resolved itself, I will still find it a struggle to pay my way. But I'm optimistic I'm sure I'll get through."

"I'm sure you will too." John said.

Annika left John with their friendship restored. She thought that he looked a little better after her visit, maybe she had managed to lift his spirits. She promised that she would come again but warned that it might not be for a few weeks, as she had exams to prepare for, and over the past few weeks had let her studies slip a little while her mind was preoccupied with her personal problems.

As she turned back to look at John's property, the evening had already started to slip gracefully into the night, the sun had dipped below the horizon leaving just a fugitive violet and orange memory in the darkening western sky. Annika breathed in the cool air from John's scented garden. It was a peaceful place and it was a shame that John might have to move away. Her eyes lifted to the stars and she saw the vague shape of a bird still visible in the darkening sky. Little more than a grey smudge it turned and wheeled until it came closer and hovered for a moment before silently settling in the slender branches of John's bottle brush tree with nothing but a flutter of soft feathers. Annika felt a sudden cold shudder across her shoulders as she walked away to find her bus stop.

The next morning before setting off to her lecture Annika checked her emails. There was one from her sister which suddenly took the wind from her sails. After the usual friendly banter her sister revealed that their father's arthritis in his knee had developed to the stage where he really needed knee replacement surgery. She said that he was taking pain killers and putting a brave face on things. The operation was simple enough but expensive and beyond his means. Annika's sister did not suggest that her own demands on her parent's money was preventing him from finding the relief he needed, but Annika knew that it was the case. Annika would do anything for her father even if it meant facing up to abandoning her studies once again. She could not bear the thought of him suffering pain so that she could continue to study. _Sometimes life just seemed so unfair_ , Annika thought. She wondered if it would be possible to put her studies on hold for a year or two. Maybe she could find work and save up her own money.

Following Annika's visit, John had decided that would call the local Real Estate agent in an attempt to discover what his property might be worth. He was curious to find out if in fact Annika's suggestion had any merit. He rather suspected that he would be disappointed.

There was a shortage of properties for sale in the area and the agent from _Trubshaws Realty_ was very keen to discuss matters. This in itself rather concerned John, as he had a fear of being taken advantage of by people who knew more about the housing market than he did. He agreed to the visit on the understanding that he would be under no obligation to take things any further.

It was a young woman by the name of Stacy Clegg who arrived the next morning to make an assessment. She walked around the property with an iPad, into which she entered copious data as she checked through the rooms, taking measurements and assessing the condition of the property.

When she had finished she found John in his garden.

"Mr Burgess... I've taken a look. Now there has definitely been an upward movement in prices in this area over the past few months. But I don't want to raise your expectation too much. Did you have a figure in mind yourself?"

John still owed almost $40,000 on his mortgage. A couple of years ago he had taken advantage of the bank's offer to increase his loan to make home improvements. He had used the increased mortgage facility to replace the roof which was starting to deteriorate. It had seemed a good idea at the time but now he was not so sure. Following his discussion with Annika John had briefly looked at house prices in Rotorua It was a place he always enjoyed visiting and had come to the conclusion that he could find a nice little place there for $200,000. He would need $40,000 to pay off his existing mortgage so anything over $240,000 would be his nest-egg. If he could raise $300,000 or so on his house, his financial worries might just be over. It seemed a huge sum though and rather unlikely. Instead of suggesting this figure he thought he would see what the agent had in mind.

"I'm not really sure... I was hoping you could give me a lead." He replied to the question.

"As I say... I don't want to overestimate... A lot of prospective sellers have rather unrealistic expectations. Having said that Mr Burgess, your property is in very good order. I note that you have recently had the roof replaced. I think we could get you between six five and seven. You might even make more at auction."

"I see." John said. _He can't possibly mean $650,000 can he,_ John thought.

"Six five..." John said as if he was considering the valuation.

"If you'd be willing to take the lower end of the scale I could probably have the house sold by the end of the week. I've been showing some serious buyers round at the moment. One couple in particular are very keen to buy in this area, and have finance prearranged for $675,000. I think this property would suit them very well, if you could be convinced to accept an offer. Subject to them viewing the house I think they would very likely make you an offer, of around six five maybe six six."

"I think you'd better arrange for them to come and see the place then." John said as his heart started to race. _All this worry and I'm rich beyond my wildest dreams, it's like winning lotto._

So it was that within a few days John was consulting a lawyer and signing contracts. The Lawyer offered to draw up a will at no cost if he settled the conveyancing fees quickly. John always liked to settle his accounts quickly.
Chapter 9

Annika withdrew to her studies, she had a lot of catching up to do, and whether she was destined to continue at university or not, she was determined to at least be successful in her exams. It was a month before she finally surfaced and was ready to meet the world again. She was determined to make good on her promise of visiting John and had collected some travel brochures, just for John to look at, to whet his appetite and push him towards fulfilling his dreams. She would visit him in person on Saturday, her calls had not been answered and she assumed that he must be busy with the prospective sale of his house.

It had been a whirlwind few weeks for John. His property had sold as easily as the agent had promised, and John had already vacated his house to take up temporary residence in a hotel overlooking Lake Rotorua. He had chosen to stay in unaccustomed luxury until he could find a suitable house. Now that he was suddenly wealthy, he had decided to surprise Annika by inviting her down to stay with him for a weekend, but had hesitated wondering if it was quite an appropriate thing to do. He would ring her and discuss the idea but in the confusion of moving his old phone had been lost and with it, Annika's number. He knew he would be able to trace her easily enough through the university and felt relaxed about leaving it until after the weekend. His thoughts of Annika were of kindness - she had called him her Kiwi grandfather. Those words had touched him deeply, deeply enough to feel that maybe he loved her as a real grandfather might.

A contentment had settled over him which was unexpectedly shaken by a call on his new iPhone. It was from Charlotte.

"Hello father... mother told me that you had moved down to Rotorua, and I just thought I should make the effort and keep in touch."

"I suppose Dolores told you that I'd done rather well out of the sale of my house."

"She might have mentioned something... I'm not sure, but that has nothing to do with why I called. I was perhaps a little hasty at our lunch meeting. I am your only close relative after all and I realise now that it would be unfair of me to turn my back on you. Perhaps I could come down one weekend and we could get to know each other."

Just a short time ago those words would have been so welcome to him. But that was when everyone thought him penniless. He could see Charlotte's motives clearly enough and they stabbed into him like shards of broken glass. All she wanted was to get her hands on his money, as if she didn't already have enough.

"I don't think so Charlotte, please don't trouble yourself. I could see what you really thought of me when we had lunch together. Please Charlotte, you don't need to feel any obligation towards me."

"But don't you feel anything for _me_ Father?"

John could imagine Charlotte's face growing red and bloated by his rejection.

"My feelings for you rather dried up like an un-watered seedling when you turned away from me Charlotte. I can say with all honesty that I no longer have any kind feelings for you. I can't conjure up feelings for you out of thin air." He said throwing her own words back at her.

"But that's so unfair Father."

"Yes... Yes it is." John agreed and ended the call without giving the callous self-serving woman the chance of reply.

There had been a little satisfying measure of revenge in being able to reject his loveless daughter so easily. He went to the hotel restaurant and ate a magnificent lunch. It started with a seafood platter, then steak with baby carrots, tender vivid green broccoli and crisp roast potatoes. To finish, he had a slice of rich cherry gateau. He drank a half bottle of a good Australian red wine with his meal and felt that he could adapt to hotel dining rather easily. Feeling the need of a little exercise he strolled down to the lake and sat outside the tourist café, and watched the sun dapple against the rippling lake water while the black swans with their vivid orange bills, glided like elegant dark phantoms across the surface of the water stirring hardly a ripple.

Maybe it was the wine but he felt a little light headed so he sat on the warm afternoon grass then lay back and looked up into the sky. He could hear children laughing and calling in the distance. The blue of the sky seemed unusually intense and John suddenly felt his spirits soar, happier than he had ever felt before in his life. A feeling of true contentment seemed to fill his being. The thoughts of his past troubled life evaporated into nothing as he sank into contentment. The scattering of white clouds seemed to dance before his eyes as if they were performing in his honour. John breathed in the fresh scent of lake water breeze that drifted coolly across his face. Then one of the dancing clouds seemed grasped by the elemental forces and slowly, almost imperceptibly, took on a shape that condensed until it became a recognisable form.

John smiled. _So you have come for me already my little friend ... Must it be so soon?_ he thought as the shape resolved itself into a bird, a night bird that had no right to be abroad under the bright sunlight. It called its mournful cry across the lake waters and gushing steam. But only John could hear the sad melody. It was a familiar sound... a call to peace, a call to the gates of eternal love. It was not to be feared. John was content, his affairs were in order. In the end he had made a mark on the world and would leave it without a fight. There was a final cough as a blood vessel deep in his cancerous lungs finally ruptured, and John came to discover his rest. He had been called home and he was ready.

Annika walked down Lincoln Street clutching her brochures. She could see John's house in the distance and crossed the road. As she got closer she saw the sign hammered into his front lawn.

_SOLD,_ it said in bright green letters. Annika walked up the path and knocked, but there was just empty silence from the house. She looked through the window and saw the empty room. Stripped of his furniture and the possessions of a lifetime the room looked alien and uninviting.

"He should have told me." Annika whispered under her breath. "Did I mean so little to him?" Annika found her eyes brimmed with tears. She had grown to love the old man and he had gone without a word. She turned away and made her way to Ponsonby Road. A bus took her down to the waterfront and she gazed out across the blue Waitemata trying to make sense of John's sudden wordless disappearance. She looked for an answer in the rolling ocean, but found only sadness.

When Annika finally got home, she still had a heavy heart. There was a letter waiting. It looked formal, like some official document and she held the envelope with nervous fingers until she could wait no longer, and tore open the seal. The letter was printed on heavy quality paper, creamy in colour with an almost waxy feel in her moist hands. She read the first few lines until the tears blurred her vision and she could read no more. It was from the office of a law firm and said:

Following the sudden and unexpected death of Mr John Burgess...

Annika sat down with a thump and the letter slipped from her fingers, floating across the room in a series of arcs until it came to rest under her desk.

"Oh Mr. John no... No."

She turned her face to the corner chair and Schrödinger looked up. He crossed the floor and jumped onto her lap.

"He was a good man, and now he's at peace. There's no need for tears."

Annika held the animal close but the need for tears was real. Real and urgent. Annika sobbed. She sobbed for John, for his unfulfilled dreams, she sobbed for her loss of a dear friend, and she sobbed for her father who was suffering pain so that she could study. It was that precipitate moment that convinced her that her family and her father were the most important things in her life. She would give up her studies, release the demands on her parents' money and make her father well and pain free.

Once made, in the fragile emotion of sudden loss, the decision seemed to be the only rational course for her to follow. Annika turned to her laptop and composed an email to her professor. It said that with regret she would be unable to continue with her studies. She indicated that the financial drain on her parents was the reason, and she had no option but to withdraw.

Her cursor hovered over the send button and she took a deep breath. At that instant there was a knock at her door. She looked across at Schrödinger, as if he might be able to divine who it was.

"Just open the door Kittens you silly girl."

She did. It was Justin. She took his hand and drew him gently into the tiny apartment.

"What brings you here?" She asked softly as she twined her fingers into his.

"Well it's the strangest thing, but last night I had this weird dream. It was about you... Well about a cat really. A talking cat. It told me that you might need me."

"Really?" Annika said as her eyes opened wide.

She felt the squeeze of his fingers.

"It's probably some deep seated psychological disorder of mine." He laughed. "But all day it's been on my mind, so I decided I just had to come and see if you are... you know... OK."

"Did you, did you really?" Annika thought it was the nicest, kindest thing.

"As a matter of fact I've just had some bad news. I've just discovered that a friend has died. I guess I could use... maybe a hug about now."

Justin opened his arms. Annika stood looking at him uncertain, she turned to Schrödinger and he looked at her with a _go on stupid_ expression. She smiled and fell into Justin's arms and felt his compassion ease her distress.

She made coffee and they talked about John until Annika started to feel better.

"I should really be going." Justin said as he bent down to pick up a sheet of paper that had fallen under Annika's desk.

"OK... Thanks for coming. You will come back won't you? Promise me that you will come back tomorrow."

Justin smiled at her and Annika suddenly felt her life edge towards becoming overly complicated again.

"Yes I'll come back." He said.

As the door closed Annika wondered what on earth she was doing. Very soon now she would be returning to India. How could she fall in love with Justin?... But then, how could she not?

She picked up the sheet of paper that Justin had recovered from under her desk. It was the bitter letter that had told her of John's death. She realised that she had not finished reading it. The words swam before her eyes.

_May we express our commiserations... made you... the sole beneficiary of his estate... come to our office at your earliest... a sum expected to be in excess of $600,000_.

Annika looked at Schrödinger. He was sitting in his elegant Egyptian pose, looking intently at her with a slightly wistful expression twitching at his whiskers. Annika thought she could see the trace of tears in his eyes but of course everyone knows that cats don't cry.

"Can all this be true?" She asked.

"Of course it's true Annika - the email won't need to be sent now."

"No. I suppose not. You called me Annika." She said with astonishment.

"I think my time with you is coming to an end, it just seemed appropriate to call you by your real name just once before I have to leave you."

"You're leaving me too?" Annika said as she struggled with another sadness.

"I must..."

Schrödinger gazed sadly at the astonished young woman. His emerald eyes flashed like the fires of the sun, but then his image slowly faded until he was just a shadow. _I love you Kittens,_ the shadow seemed to whisper, then that too flickered away until all that remained of Schrödinger was an everlasting warm glow that wrapped itself around Annika's bursting heart.

