

AMANDA MARTIN

TWO-HUNDRED STEPS HOME

VOLUME NINE

Amanda Martin was born in Hertfordshire in 1976. After graduating with first class honours from Leeds University she wandered around the world trying to find her place in it. She tried various roles, in England and New Zealand, including Bar Manager, Marketing Manager, Consultant and Artist, before deciding that Writer/Mummy best summed her up. She lives in Northamptonshire with her husband, two children and labradoodle Kara and can mostly be found at http://writermummy.wordpress.com or on Twitter or Facebook.

Two-Hundred Steps Home is her latest work. Amanda is writing the novel in daily instalments on her WriterMummy blog as part of her 2013 365 post-a-day challenge. This ebook is Volume 9 and contains the 30 instalments from September. Find all the volumes on Smashwords.

COPYRIGHT

Published by 3AD Publishing at Smashwords

Copyright © Amanda Martin 2013

Amanda Martin asserts the moral right to be  
identified as the author of this work

Also by Amanda Martin:

Two-Hundred Steps Home: The Complete Journey

Dragon Wraiths

Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes

This novel is entirely a work of fiction although based loosely on the hostels and the Kiwi Experience tour of New Zealand. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.

Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

http://www.amanda-martin.co.uk

http://writermummy.wordpress.com
TABLE OF CONTENTS

Title

Copyright

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

About the Author

ONE

Claire stepped back, her face burning. Afraid to meet Josh's gaze, she stared at the floor, until she heard him chuckle.

"Well, that was some welcome. I didn't need to worry whether you'd be pleased to see me then?"

Claire's cheeks burned hotter and she turned to collect her rucksack; feeling a strong urge to keep walking to the door.

Really cool, Claire, really clever. Flinging yourself at a married man like he's your long lost lover. What were you thinking?

Retrieving her bag, Claire concentrated on long, slow, breaths, to calm her hammering heart and cool her red-hot skin. After everything that had happened in the months since she'd last seen him, it had been more than she could do to keep herself under control.

He's still married. Just because he's come to New Zealand to find me, he still has a wife and three kids.

She forced herself to smile brightly, and walked back to Josh. "It's always nice to see a friendly face when you're a long way from home."

Josh raised an eyebrow and Claire prayed he wouldn't push it. For a moment they were still and something seem to pass between them, although Claire couldn't decide exactly what. He seemed vulnerable, as if he also needed a hug, a friend. She remembered his email had said precisely that.

Then a mask dropped over his features, and he was the old Josh. "So, how are you liking being on the right side of the world? Plucked up the courage to bungee jump yet?" He linked arms with her and guided her to a seat.

Grateful for his light words, Claire sought to do the same. "I love New Zealand. No I haven't thrown myself off a bridge with an elastic band round my ankles, but I have been white water rafting and sand boarding. You'd have been proud." She flushed, as memories of him coaxing her to jump off a waterfall came to mind. He felt like her teacher in the life of the verb and that led onto other dangerous thoughts.

If Josh noticed he didn't say anything. "Yes, I've seen some of it on the blog. You've come a long way, I'm impressed. And how do you like the tour bus experience?"

"Ah, not so much. You know I missed the bus? At Cape Reinga? It's not the same as having your own car. But at least I don't have to think."

Beneath the veneer of their words, Claire could feel the tension, the shared memories of travelling around England in her Skoda, of hiking and getting drunk together. He bore little resemblance to the scruffy man who had taken her to an observatory in the snow three months before.

Looking at him now, she wondered if she would have recognised him if she hadn't known it was him in the lift. There was no hint of the unwashed hobo. His hair was short and neat, his skin tanned. His clothes had no patches or home repairs, no stains or holes. He looked every inch the doctor on vacation, in his polo shirt and jeans.

She felt herself under a similar scrutiny and wondered what Josh saw. Could he tell that her clothes hadn't been washed in a fortnight? Did she look like someone whose world had collapsed in the intervening weeks since their last meeting?

At least I had a shower this morning. Thank god he didn't see me when I got off the ferry yesterday.

"You look... well. A tan suits you." Josh said eventually, his words breaking the silence. "You're thinner, though. Are you eating properly?"

His low voice burrowed into her tummy, leaving a warm glow. Claire became aware of every inch of her skin, every sound around her. The receptionist greeting travellers with a cheery hello. The barista in the bar whistling over the sound of the coffee machine. Chinking cutlery as someone laid the tables for lunch. She could smell Josh's aftershave, although he no longer carried the scent of wood smoke. She wondered if Fiona disapproved of him smoking.

As if remembering her name brought Josh's wife into the room, Claire jerked, feeling as if she'd been doused in cold water. With a shake of her head she tried to recall his question.

"Yes, I'm fine. Being stuck on a tour bus is a great way to diet. And I was on the ferry that got turned back from Picton yesterday."

Josh's expression changed to a more professional concern. "Holy crap, are you okay? No bumps or bruises? I heard that was pretty bad. Ten hours on a boat, poor chook. Have you had breakfast?"

She nodded, unable to speak. It had been so long since someone had worried about her – since she'd felt herself to be anything other than a nuisance – that the tears threatened to spill down her cheeks again.

Josh seemed to sense her distress. He sat up straight and smiled, although his eyes remained troubled.

"Let's get out of here. Do you want me to drop your rucksack in my room? Then we can go exploring. Did you see much of Wellington? Have you been up to Mount Victoria? It's worth the walk."

Grateful for his understanding, Claire nodded. "That sounds good. I didn't see much, the weather was awful."

"That's a plan then." Josh leapt to his feet and picked up her bag. "Let's go exploring."

Knowing she would regret it, but helpless to resist, Claire followed meekly in his wake.

***

TWO

Claire inhaled the muggy scent of damp track and bushland and sighed.

This is what's amazing about this country. You couldn't wander through London and stumble across a bushland walk up a steep hillside.

If she closed her eyes, it was easy to imagine she was back in the Tongariro reserve, or up near Cape Reinga ready to hug the trees, rather than in the country's capital city.

She could hear Josh's steady breathing beside her. That was the difference. In the Tongariro Park the closest she had come to companionship was dodging Neal's strange attempts at seduction. Having Josh alongside her was like pulling on her favourite sweater to stave off a chilly evening. Except it wasn't so comfortable any more.

Claire thought through the new awkwardness of their relationship, as she kept pace with Josh's long strides and tried not to pant with exertion.

What's changed from when we travelled together? We weren't involved, apart from that near kiss at the beginning. It didn't matter that he had a wife and kids. But only because I didn't know about them, I suppose. Would I have been happy sharing a bunk-bed with him if I'd known he was married?

Looking back on their time at the Hartington hostel, and the day trip in Cambridge, Claire remembered how altered Josh had been. When Fiona had been unknown, when she hadn't met Lucas, Sophie and Lily, Josh had been hers. There were no complications, no guilt, no subtext. She hadn't even worried that much whether she fancied him or not. All the Michael stuff had been too raw for her to want to dive headlong into something new.

Now that was old news it seemed she was a dog on heat. Because there was no doubt she ached to hold him. Every time his skin brushed against hers she felt on fire. Her senses zinged as if she'd been fed coffee on an intravenous drip since breakfast.

She kept glancing at him, trying to see if he felt the spark between them. If she caught his eye he just smiled or ran a little way, taunting her for her inability to keep up. On the surface he was the Josh of old. But now and then, when he thought she wasn't looking, she knew he watched her. And of course there was the email. They hadn't talked about that. Thanks to the strenuous walk they hadn't talked about anything much.

That's probably a good thing. It's lovely to see him, but it will be better for all of us when he flies back to his wife and I finally get both feet on the south island.

After what felt like hours, they crested the hill and left the bush behind. Claire gasped at the unexpected view. All around and beneath her, Wellington sprawled out to the horizon. She groaned as Josh pointed to the steps leading up to the top of the lookout.

"No more climbing. My legs are on strike."

"Do you want me to carry you?" Josh's voice was playful but Claire gave a little shiver.

"It's fine. I'll walk. You may have to roll me back down the hill to the hotel though."

Before he could say anything she strode past him, taking the stairs two at a time. She reached the top first and had a moment to catch her breath before he was once more standing too close for comfort.

"Told you it would be worth it." Josh said, once he was breathing normally.

Claire turned, confused at his words, and realised he was talking about the view. "Yes. It's nothing like Auckland, is it?"

"No. This is more the real New Zealand, I think. Look, there's the airstrip." Josh pointed at a ribbon of green stretching out into the ocean.

"Bugger that. Now I'm definitely taking the ferry south."

There was a pause, and she realised it was the first time either of them had spoken of the future. She wondered if Josh would take the chance to explain why he had come. He leant his arms on the railing and looked around at the panoramic view. Claire sensed the tension in his shoulders, but didn't have the words to break the silence. Instead she gazed at the snow-capped mountains in the distance, the harbour beneath her where the high-rise buildings were dwarfed by the surrounding hills. On the other side she could see a large circle of green that she decided must be a cricket pitch. And running through the buildings all the way to the horizon were thick bands of native bush.

What an amazing city.

"Claire, I..."

Josh's voice cut through her reverie and made her hands tremble. There was so much loaded into two words. She turned to face him, studying his profile as he continued to gaze into the distance.

"I needed to see you. The truth is I'm–"

"Claire!"

A voice cut through Josh's words and Claire bit back a curse. With a deep sigh she turned and forced a smile onto her face.

"Bethan, hello."

The girl rushed over, leaving behind a group of people Claire vaguely recognised from the ferry. Bethan's ability to make friends astounded her.

"You didn't get the ferry then? I thought you might, as it's such a gorgeous day." Then, sensing she was interrupting, Bethan looked towards Josh in confusion. "Oh, I'm sorry. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"No, it's fine. Bethan this is Josh, Josh, Bethan. We were on the ferry together yesterday."

Josh pushed away from the railing and turned to face the newcomer, shielding his eyes against the sun. He turned on his brightest smile and chatted to Bethan as if they were old friends.

Claire watched the mask slide back in place across his face and felt a heavy lump drop into her stomach. Whatever he had been about to say, the moment had passed. Following Josh and Bethan as they walked towards the other group, Claire wondered if she felt disappointed or relieved.

***

THREE

Claire walked beside Bethan and tried to concentrate on what her friend was saying. Behind her, Josh chatted with another member of the group, not showing he was in anyway frustrated by the intrusion. Claire wasn't fooled. She had felt his gaze on her more than once as they meandered back to town at a much more leisurely pace than Josh had set for the climb up to Mount Victoria.

She had to admit to feeling relieved that Josh was unable to finish what he'd been on the verge of telling her. Something about the intensity of his stare, when their eyes clashed, and the way he seemed to keep accidentally touching her skin or finding a reason to rest his hand on her arm, unsettled her.

"... are you coming? Claire?"

Claire looked into Bethan's dark eyes and flushed as she realised she had no idea what the girl was talking about.

"Earth to Claire! Where were you, my lovely? You looked light years away."

Claire felt the blush burn hotter and resisted the need to turn towards Josh, convinced that he would be listening to their conversation.

"Sorry, I wasn't anywhere, just lack of sleep."

"I thought you said you slept like the dead last night?" Bethan's lips twitched in a coy smile and Claire wondered what erroneous conclusions she was drawing from Josh's appearance out of the blue.

"I did, but I think that stupid ferry trip took more out of me than I realised. I'm truly sorry. What were you saying? Am I coming where?"

"On the ferry tomorrow? We're going to pick up the bus at Picton and go kayaking in the Abel Tasman Park. The weather's meant to be awesome for the time of year."

Claire's thoughts tumbled like white water rapids; churning with conflicting desires. She had to find out what Josh wanted before she could make plans, although she wasn't sure what he might say that would force her to change hers. She needed to get on with her journey, time was slipping away.

Josh's voice broke in on her confusion. "Why don't I come over with you? It's been years since I went hiking in the Abel Tasman Park, it'll be fun."

"But surely you don't have your gear with you? I thought you were here for a conference?" Claire heard the protestations in her voice and wondered what Josh would make of them. Suddenly she didn't want him coming on her adventure. He wasn't the carefree Josh she remembered and she found his presence unnerving.

"She'll be right. You can hike the National Park in trainers, it'll be bonza."

She raised an eyebrow at his sudden rendition of Aussie Male and he smirked. Aware of a strong compulsion to push him down the hillside, Claire merely shrugged.

"Sure, why not. Provided there's room on the bus."

Bethan gave her a sideways glance and Claire could tell she was trying to figure out her lukewarm reaction to Josh's suggestion. She wasn't sure she understood it herself. Maybe the past was better off where it was, rather than letting it intrude on the present. Nothing good ever came from going back: look at Michael.

Like an aviary of noisy parrots, the chatter of the group rose around her as they discussed where to go for dinner and what time the ferry would leave in the morning. Claire let it wash over her and walked the rest of the route in silence.

***

**FOUR**

Claire felt a tap on her arm. Prising her eyes open, she stared blearily to her left. Josh peered at her with a sheepish grin on his face.

"Sorry, did I wake you?"

"No." Claire yawned. She glanced to her right, but the seat was empty. Feeling slightly betrayed that Bethan had left her to her fate, Claire turned back to Josh.

"Yes, it's just us." His smile was too knowing, and Claire flushed at being caught. She already suspected that Josh had seen through her blatant attempts to avoid being alone with him, both at dinner the night before, and during the wait for the ferry that morning.

"Would you like to take a walk? We're just entering the sound, and the scenery is breathtaking."

Even though the ferry barely felt like it was moving – in strong contrast to her experience two days before – Claire didn't feel like going on deck. But something about Josh's expression told her he would pester her until she gave in, so she nodded and hoped it would be too noisy outside for conversation.

Josh led her through a heavy door, holding it open for her with a flourish. She smiled at his antics but it didn't alleviate the lead weight tugging at her chest. As much as she was enjoying spending time with Josh, she found his behaviour unnerving: he watched her constantly, even when he was talking to someone else. It was more like being stalked by Neal than having her friend back.

I miss the old Josh.

With another yawn, Claire inhaled the fresh morning air and agreed that it was indeed beautiful. The grass-coated cliffs rose either side of them, forming a narrow tunnel for the ferry to chug through. The scenery had an other-world feel to it: too large, too green, too perfect. She felt like a mouse drifting along the riverbank on a leaf.

Josh leant on the railings, his face into the wind. She went to stand beside him and, for a moment, they contemplated the view in companionable silence.

"Claire–"

She winced, then changed it to, "Hmmm?"

"I never got a chance to tell you yesterday about why I came. The truth is, I'm thinking of leaving Fiona."

Claire gasped. She couldn't help it. Whatever she had imagined he might say; that hadn't been it.

Stupid girl. It should have been obvious: the lingering glances, his coming all this way to see you.

She tried to analyse her reaction to his announcement. Wasn't that what she wanted? Josh, free from Fiona and hers for the taking? Except somehow she didn't want it anymore. The Josh she loved was a faithful, loving man, not someone who would walk out on his wife and children.

"Why?"

Josh released a sigh. "It's too damn hard, that's why. All she has time for these days is the kids. They come first in everything. We barely talk anymore, never mind, well..."

"But Lily's only a baby; surely it will get easier when she's a bit older."

"Fiona said that after Lucas and Sophie and then Lily came along. She'll probably want another one, as soon as Lily doesn't need her 24-7. It feels like her way of avoiding being with me: having more and more babies."

"I thought you loved the children."

Josh ran his hands through his hair. "I do. Don't get me wrong, they're great kids. And Fiona. But a man has needs, you know? Oh not just the obvious ones."

He turned to face her, and the bitterness in his expression made her catch her breath.

"Just once I'd like her to ask about my day, instead of handing me the baby so she can grab a shower or go to bed. I feel like we're co-workers on a rolling twelve-hour shift pattern. I don't remember the last time we had an uninterrupted conversation."

Claire thought back to her time caring for Sky. She'd felt like that with only one child to look after, she couldn't imagine what it must be like with three. And, even though her first reaction was to call Josh a selfish bastard for not being more supportive of Fiona, she had to admit he probably had a point. When they'd all been together in the hostel, Fiona's attention had been consumed by the children.

"Shouldn't you be talking to Fiona about this, not me?"

Josh hung his head and rubbed his hand around the back of his neck. It was the gesture of a beaten man. "I've tried. She gets all emotional: either accusing me of being selfish or telling me to clear off and find someone else to see to my needs because she's too busy."

Claire's ears buzzed as she tried to think. She didn't want to be having this conversation. Was she meant to be the someone else? Josh's pain was her pain, but part of her could see how childish he was being. Parenthood was hard: you took the good with the bad.

If I were Fiona, I'd probably tell him to sod off, too.

Not knowing what to say, Claire absentmindedly rubbed his shoulder in support. As if the physical contact was all the permission he needed, Josh turned to her and seized her face with his hands. He kissed her, hard, his stubble grazing her face. Not like the soft brush of the lips of their first embrace.

She didn't respond but, unlike the last time, Josh didn't pull away. After several painful moments, Claire pushed at his chest and he broke free, panting.

She looked up at him, eyes wide. His expression was wild and it scared her. Then he seemed to control his features and smiled the lopsided grin that tightened round her heart like a fist.

"Sorry. Can't blame a man for trying."

He turned back to face the sea, as if nothing had happened. Claire stood motionless, except for the trembling in her limbs, her mind a jumble of thoughts and feelings.

Ah, crap.

***

FIVE

After hours spent worrying that Josh would somehow arrange for them to share a double room, Claire's relief at being placed in a dorm was short-lived.

I might as well have shared with Josh; he can practically hug me from his bed anyway.

The room was tiny. With eight people and their luggage crammed in, it felt like a train carriage rather than a bedroom. Considering how expensive it was for the dorm, not to mention the deposit for the cutlery, Claire wasn't impressed.

I thought it'd be cheaper to travel here than at home, given the high volume of traffic coming through some of these places. And who ever heard of paying a deposit to use a fork? Barmy.

Not wanting to spoil her trip by worrying about money, Claire dropped her rucksack on the bed and followed Bethan, Josh and the other people from the bus, out of the room.

Claire could see the beach as they left the hostel. Fine golden sand and clear blue water stretched away from her. She could imagine running straight into the sea in summer. Now, with an autumnal nip in the air, she was content to dig her toes in the sand and soak in the beauty.

She sensed Josh shadowing her steps, as she walked beside Bethan and chatted about the accommodation and where to go for dinner. Bethan kept glancing behind her, a frown on her flawless face.

"So, what is it with you and the moody doctor?"

Bethan lowered her voice but Claire still blushed, worried Josh could hear.

Speeding up to open the gap between them and Josh, Claire leant in close to Bethan and said, as nonchalantly as she could, "He's just someone I met while travelling in the UK. We shared a ride for a couple of weeks. He lives in Oz and popped over to say hi."

"Claire, no one flies from Australia to New Zealand to say hi. That's what phones are for. They certainly don't hop on the bus with you or follow you round like a lost puppy."

Bethan's words caused bile to rise in Claire's throat.

"It's complicated."

The girl snorted in response. "That's not an answer, that's a Facebook relationship status. Are you shagging him, or what? And if not, can I?" Her deep, throaty, laugh rolled around the half-empty beach.

"Bethan! Hush, he'll hear you." Claire prayed for the sand to open before her and swallow her up.

"So what? He's delish. Come on, spill the beans."

"He's married." Claire's voice dropped like water on a fire. If she expected her words to dampen Bethan's enthusiasm, she hadn't counted on the girl's tenacity.

"And? If he was happily married he wouldn't be here. Has he ditched the wife? Are you the replacement? You must have made a hell of an impression on him in a short time."

Claire looked round to make sure Josh wasn't hanging on every word. She could see him further up the beach, in a circle with some lads from the bus. As if sensing her scrutiny, he turned and waved when he saw her watching. She quickly turned away.

"Honestly? I have no idea what's going on. I won't deny that I fancied him when we travelled together, but I didn't know he was married then. Now I've met his wife, and his three kids, and being a home breaker isn't my style."

"So, what are you going to do? He's clearly crazy about you and, I have to say, you talk a good talk but I'm not buying it."

Claire looked across at her friend, trying to read the meaning in her dark eyes.

What is it about travelling that makes you confide in complete strangers? Is it that there's no one else, or that you're all in it together. Maybe just the fact that you're unlikely to ever see them again. Not that that's worked for me. I've bumped into Maggie, Josh and even Bethan more than once.

Claire kicked her feet in the surf and sighed. "What a mess."

"Why not just bed him and move on? If he's serious about leaving the wife, there's nothing you can do about it. If he isn't, then sleeping with you will bring him to his senses."

The blunt practicality of the girl's tone made Claire shrivel. Despite her near miss with the Scotsman, she wasn't in the habit of bed hopping. And, underneath his current puppy dog behaviour, Josh was still a good friend. She didn't want to risk that by giving in to his lures. And yet, deep in her gut, she yearned to surrender.

With another gusty sigh she shook her head. "We'll see,"

For some reason it made Bethan giggle all the way back to the hostel.

***

SIX

Claire read the text message and beamed at the empty dorm room, wanting to share the jest. Trust Conor to have something stupid to say to lighten the heaviness she'd been carrying since Wellington. She looked at the message again, marvelling that Conor's humour was so like her own.

Thank the lovesick puppy for me; sounds like I've got more chance of getting you to work for me now. Nothing will send you home quicker than needing to leg it from a clingy bloke with baggage.

It seemed strange to think she would be back in the UK in a couple of weeks, or that it had only been three weeks since her interview for the Dorset job. Her time away felt crammed with a lifetime of experiences.

I suppose something good came of losing my best friend: I would never have run away to New Zealand if Kim hadn't accused me of killing her baby.

The thought set her heart hammering, and she realised it wasn't something she could joke about, even in her own mind. What if she had caused the miscarriage, by letting slip Kim's news to Michael? Suddenly all the lightness slipped away and her mind returned to the dark.

And now I have needy Josh, my new shadow, as penance. I guess I deserve it. Thou shalt not covet another woman's husband and all that. Just as I was horrified that Kim was throwing her career away for a baby. Why do my stupid thoughts have to come back to bite me.

"Claire?"

Looking up at the door, Claire exhaled at the sight of Bethan. She didn't want Josh cornering her in an empty room.

"There you are. It's time to go kayaking, if you're still coming? Some of the guys are catching the taxi boat, but I want to have a go out on the water."

Claire stuffed her phone in her bag and nodded. "I'm coming." She shouldered the rucksack and followed Bethan from the room.

"What were you doing by yourself in there, anyway? Texting loverboy? He's waiting for you downstairs." Bethan grinned.

Claire merely rolled her eyes.

Claire twisted her fingers while the tour guide allocated them into pairs for the double kayaks they would paddle down the coast. She shuffled nearer to Bethan, conscious of Josh sidling up on her other side. Claire tried to exude her best 'I'm invisible do not speak to me' vibe, that she used to use on the Metro. It didn't work.

The guide, a tanned woman in her twenties, looked directly at them. "You, Bethan? You can come with me. Claire, is it? You're with Josh. Simon and Lee, you two are together, and, Sally was it? You're with Matt."

Claire swore under her breath, conscious of Josh grinning behind her. Bethan threw her an apologetic look and went to stand by the tour guide.

"Why are you avoiding me, Claire?" Josh spoke quietly into her ear, making her shiver. "I'm not about to force myself on you. If you're not interested, that's fine, although I must have got my wires crossed."

The hurt in his voice made her heart clench and she turned to say something, but he was already striding towards their kayak. Her mind churned with conflicting emotions. This Josh confused her, but she couldn't deny she was still attracted to him. Maybe Bethan was right, perhaps she should let down her guard and see what happened. Or at least try and talk to him, tell him to go back to Fiona. What did she really want? And what was right?

With a sigh, she crossed the sand towards the craft waiting by the water. Blind to the beauty of the sparkling water, the endless white sand, she took a deep breath and pushed her shoulders back.

It feels like my job in life is to reunite this man with his family.

***

SEVEN

The kayak felt like it was floating in the air rather than resting on the water. Beneath her, the transparent sea concealed nothing of the sandy depths. Claire felt as if she could reach down a hand and touch the bottom, even though the tour guide had told her the water was several feet deep.

Around them, seals swam and bobbed, some coming over to stare at the newcomers or show off their tricks. Claire turned her head left and right, trying to take it all in and feel connected. Her head told her it was breath-taking, beautiful, something to be treasured in her memory forever. Her heart and her body were too concerned with the silent figure in front of her to have time for anything else.

Josh had barely spoken since they'd left the beach. A double kayak wasn't the place for intimate conversation. Claire realised that it was the perfect way to avoid a confrontation: more so than if he'd been in another craft, where she could have seen his face.

She found herself trying to read his shoulders. Were they tense? Disapproving? Disappointed? Resigned? He seemed to have got the message that she didn't want a fling, and now the thought that she had wounded him twisted her stomach.

It also seemed that, now she had made her decision, she wanted nothing more than to bury her fingers in his hair and pull him in for a kiss. Claire sighed and reached down for her camera.

I'd better take some pictures so I can at least look back and remember how gorgeous it all was.

She hated the feeling of disconnectedness: of watching the world from inside a bubble. Of knowing she should be moved but feeling nothing.

If this is what obsessing over a bloke does to me, I think I prefer being alone. In fact, I didn't feel lonely before, when it was just me, with the occasional text from Conor.

Now, even though the man she had loved for months was sitting mere feet in front of her, she felt close to tears.

Life sucks. Why can't I just have no morals? Then I could have him, and not care about Fiona or the sprogs.

She tried to imagine what that might be like, as Josh dipped his paddle in to steer the kayak after the rest of the group.

When all's said and done, I've only known him for a few weeks. And, now, I'm not sure I knew him at all. The Josh in England wasn't clingy and needy, sulky and pushy. Or maybe he was and I just didn't notice.

Claire tried to remember what travelling with him had been like, but her memories were a blur. There had been laughter but, now she thought about it, most of it seemed to be directed at her: at her fear of heights, at her getting drunk and singing in a bar.

And then, of course, when she'd seen him with Fiona and the kids, she'd fallen for the family man, the husband, the life partner. He was none of those things now: he was a potential cheat and a coward.

She shivered at the relentless thoughts. Desperate to get out of the kayak and away from the cause of her disquiet, Claire dug her paddle hard into the water. The kayak rocked sharply and, before she knew what was happening, Claire felt herself submerged in icy water.

There was no time to remember what she'd been told to do. Her only thought was to free her tangled legs and find a way to breathe.

Through the clear water, she saw Josh free himself and turn to see if she was out. He hesitated, as if unsure whether to free her or go for help. He disappeared from view and Claire gasped, losing the last of her air. Panic rose inside her as water filled her mouth and she struggled against the boat, desperate to be free.

A wrenching movement made her swallow water and she felt as if she was drowning. Then she realised she was upright, as her sight cleared and the wind froze her wet skin.

Coughing up water, Claire collapsed forwards over the craft. A hand patted her back hard, and she wanted to ask it to stop, but her lungs didn't contain any air.

At last she could breathe. Tears streamed down her face and the sobbing made her ribs hurt.

"Christ, Claire, what were you doing?"

Josh's voice cut harshly through her pain.

"If you wanted me to go, you could have just asked. You didn't need to drown me."

Claire looked up, ready to defend herself, and saw the concern in his eyes. He was standing waist deep in the water, his lips blue from the cold. She managed a weak smile, and Josh's face twisted. He reached for her and pulled her close.

"Don't do that again. I couldn't bear to lose you."

And then he, too, began to cry.

***

EIGHT

Claire sat, awkwardly holding Josh's hand, staring at nothing out the window. She hoped he had fallen asleep, but she didn't want to check in case she caught him staring at her again. If she had to endure the soppy, tear-filled gaze one more time she thought she might vomit.

I don't understand women who go for the new man, in touch with his emotions. Give me some British stiff upper lip any day. It's not like I was going to drown in three feet of water with the tour guide right there.

In fact, their guide had laughed at Josh's panic, forcing Claire to play down her own fear. She suspected more than one nightmare in the future might revolve around drowning and being trapped underwater: not experiences she wanted to repeat. But even she could see, in retrospect, that she wasn't in any real danger.

Someone should tell Josh that I'm not a sick child he needs to save. The only people he ought to be concerned about are his wife and kids.

And yet she still had his sweaty hand clasped in hers. It had seemed cruel to spurn him: like kicking a cat. But she didn't need Bethan's sniggers and eye rolling to tell her she'd made trouble for herself.

"Hey, Claire."

As if hearing her thoughts, Bethan called to her across the coach aisle.

"You won't be sharing a dorm with us at Westport, then?" She grinned, as Claire flushed beetroot.

"Pack it in. I take it he is asleep?" Josh hadn't moved at Bethan's words, and she hoped he wasn't feigning slumber.

Bethan nodded, and leaned nearer. "He is rather scrummy. Why don't you just sleep with him and be done with it? The wife need never know."

"I'd know." Claire was surprised at the fierceness in her voice. As Bethan recoiled, she immediately said, "Sorry, that came out sharper than intended. You forget, I've met his wife and their children. She isn't some faceless entity with no feelings. She even looks like me, although that's where the comparisons end. She's a doctor, and a brilliant parent. I wouldn't hurt her for the world."

"And yet he would. Some fella you got there."

Claire had to agree, although she felt driven to defend Josh. "He wasn't like that when I knew him in England. He had some kind of breakdown, I think, and it's still affecting him."

"You mean he isn't just a selfish twat that never grew up, who has run away because life got a teensy bit hard?"

It was Claire's turn to be shocked at the sarcastic sneer in Bethan's voice. It reminded Claire that she knew little about her new friend's history.

Biting her tongue on a retort, Claire was forced to smile. "Show me a man who has actually grown up and I'll show you a boring bastard who takes life far too seriously." She thought about Michael and his pompous preaching.

"So, what are you going to do? He did save your life."

Claire opened her mouth to deny the suggestion, then saw the twinkle in Bethan's dark eyes. "You cow! It's so hilarious, sat over there. You try sitting in this seat."

"Don't mind if I do!"

"Well, why don't you seduce him then? Get him off my hands."

"And break the poor little wifey's heart? I can't do that. Why don't you call this woman and tell her you stumbled across her husband at the lost and found. If she really wants him, she'll come and collect him."

"Poor Fiona. She did that once already: flying halfway round the world with three kids in tow."

Bethan pulled a face. "She sounds like an angel. Too good for him."

Claire privately agreed. It was clear that Josh had fixated on her as the way out of his humdrum life, but Claire knew it was no more than it had been the first time they met: She resembled the wife he used to know, before children had eaten into their lives.

Not that I can blame him for wanting to evade the responsibility of raising children: it's not something I'm in a hurry to do. But it seems Fiona does all the work.

She couldn't deny he came across as selfish and pathetic however which way she viewed it. The sooner she sent him back to his wife the better.

Prising her hand free from his, Claire turned her back on the sleeping figure and tried to ignore the weight of his head resting against her shoulder.

If I let a man into my life again, it will be one who can stand on his own two feet.

***

NINE

"Come on, Josh, I want to go on the jet boat. Where else can I go in a boat that works in only centimetres of water? Stop being a worrywart, I'm fine."

Claire tugged at his hand, feeling flashbacks of trying to convince Sky to do something she didn't want to do. Seeing the stubborn look on his face, she dropped his hand and folded her arms.

"Fine. Although I'm surprised that someone who laughed at me for not jumping off a waterfall is worried about a stupid speed boat. You've got old and boring."

She turned away, but watched him out of the corner of her eye; trying to analyse his expression. She hadn't even been that interested in doing the jet boat ride – that afternoon's suggested high adrenalin activity – until Josh said he thought she should give it a miss. In his best preachy doctor voice, he had advised her to rest after her near-drowning.

Despite explaining at length that she hadn't been anywhere near drowning, he had insisted. It was like being with Michael all over again.

Why do people feel the need to wrap me in cotton wool? I'm not such a pathetic or fragile creature.

"You coming, Claire?" Bethan called, as the group split into those going jet boating and the ones remaining behind to horse ride or catch up on sleep.

Claire threw one last look at Josh and, ignoring the knot in her stomach, ran after Bethan. "Definitely. Sounds like fun."

As they walked away, Bethan turned to look back. "Isn't Sir Galahad coming? I thought Aussies were as keen to try and kill themselves as the Kiwis are?"

"He's sulking because I won't follow his doctor advice and rest after my near-death experience this morning."

Bethan threw her head back and laughed, her long black hair flying out behind her. "Near death? You capsized a kayak in three feet of still water. Oh dear, he has got it bad, hasn't he?"

Claire pursed her lips and they walked the rest of the way in silence.

Claire screamed as the boat swung close to the rocks; the gorge towering overhead and blocking out the sun. Spray splashed over them, drenching Claire and drowning out her laughter. She clung onto the seat as the driver twisted the boat away just as it seemed about to crash. Her head jerked with the motion and she felt a sharp pain as something pulled in her neck.

Damn, don't let me get whiplash, I'll never hear the end of it from Josh.

Gritting her teeth, Claire massaged the muscle then quickly grabbed at the seat in front as the boat span three-hundred and sixty degrees before tunnelling through the water across to the other side of the gorge.

Ahead she could see the driver grinning, his teeth flashing bright white against his dark tan. Wraparound shades covered his eyes and he had one arm resting along the side of the jet boat, as he nonchalantly span the wheel.

Walls of white rose on either side as the boat bumped over the river; every jolt running through Claire and ripping at her neck, until tears mingled with the spray on her cheeks.

Around her the landscape unrolled in brilliant detail: the deep blue river stretching like a ribbon through the high walls of the gorge, the colours rendered sharp by the afternoon sun. It was a far cry from sea kayaking with seals that morning.

Although I think I'm probably as wet. Maybe Josh was right, maybe this wasn't such a great idea, though I'm not going to tell him that.

Warming her torn muscles with one hand, Claire clung on with the other and willed the ride to finish soon. Only the knowledge of having to face Josh and his smug "I told you so" when they got back made her glad to still be in her seat.

My trip of a lifetime is starting to turn sour. I can't get off the bus, because I can't afford to travel any other way now. I can't seem to get rid of Josh, which a few months ago would have been amazing, but is now a literal pain in the neck. I just want to go home.

Letting the spray conceal her tears, Claire gave in to the wave of self-pity washing over her.

***

TEN

"For God's sake, I told you not to go."

Josh rushed towards Claire as she walked away from the jet, dripping wet and clutching her neck. She immediately dropped her hand and forced a smile. Irritation fought with gratitude at the look of concern in his amber-flecked eyes. She longed to bury herself in his arms and have him smooth the pain away. At the same time, her hackles rose at his disapproving frown.

"What do you mean? It was excellent fun!" She looked down at her sodden clothing. "Do you mean this? I'm not as wet as I was this morning. I'll know not to sit at the edge another time."

Josh fell in step as Claire and Bethan waddled back to the bus to retrieve dry clothes. Claire willed her friend to stay with them as chaperone, but Bethan seemed oblivious to the brewing trouble, as she chatted to a couple of lads from the bus. Claire realised she was on her own.

"I'm not talking about you being drenched, and you know it. You were holding your neck, I saw you. You've given yourself whiplash, haven't you?"

Claire went to shake her head, thought better of it, and folded her arms instead. "It's fine. Nothing a cup of tea won't fix."

She heard Josh tut in annoyance, but he held his tongue.

Claire managed to avoid Josh for the rest of the day. She knew it was putting off the inevitable, but she couldn't face a showdown. Her body ached with spent adrenalin and pain stabbed from her neck to her fingertips if she moved too quickly. A lecture from Josh would only exacerbate the already-blinding headache flashing in her head.

She was grateful they'd been allocated different dorm rooms and she had almost made it to bed undetected, when he finally tracked her down.

"Claire, please stop avoiding me. We need to talk." He hurried after her, and she stopped in the corridor, not wanting him to follow her all the way to her room, which – judging by the raucous drinking going on elsewhere in the hostel – was likely to be empty at this early hour.

"Can't it wait until the morning? I'm beat."

"Do you need painkillers? I have some prescription strength ones that will help. I know you don't want me mollycoddling you, I get it. But stupid to suffer in silence."

"I told you, I'm fine. I took some ibuprofen earlier. What I need now is sleep."

Josh rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and shuffled his feet. Something about his body language raised the hairs on Claire's arm. She felt a declaration brewing, and didn't want to hear it.

"Claire I–"

"Don't say it." She held up her hand. He reached forward and took it in a gentle grasp.

"No, I have to say it, before I chicken out. I haven't had nearly enough beer."

"Then go drink some more and let me go to bed."

"I love you."

The words rushed out and fell like rocks into her empty heart. Behind them a shout of laughter broke above the general hubbub, emphasising the silence between them. Claire felt acutely aware of his hand holding hers, as she stared at the floor and waited for it to open and rescue her.

After what felt like an eternity Josh spoke, his voice barely a whisper.

"Tell me you don't love me. I won't believe you."

She looked up then, and saw a mixture of hope and assurance in his expression. She needed to speak, to end this. Short and sharp, like pulling off a plaster.

"I loved the idea of you: Josh the adventurer, Josh the husband and father. That's all."

"I can be those things again."

He pulled her towards him but she resisted.

"You still are those things, just not with me. You have a wife who loves you, children who adore you. Don't throw it away." Claire thought about all she had lost. Her best friend, her boyfriend, her job, her family. There was nowhere she truly belonged.

"Don't give up your readymade life for a pipe dream. What if we did get married and have kids? Life wouldn't be any easier. Far harder, in fact. I'm not a natural parent like Fiona. You think it's hard now, with her focussing on the baby? You'd be booking me into rehab after a week of looking after three children while my husband sodded off to England to nurse his guilty conscience."

Suddenly her head crowded with the thought of all the pain this gorgeous man had caused, with his misplaced guilt and his refusal to take responsibility for his life. As he gazed at her like a puppy seeking praise, she felt a hundred years old.

"My advice to you, Josh? Appreciate what you have, before you no longer have it. Go back to Fiona. Beg forgiveness. Try harder. Hire a babysitter and take her out to dinner. Bring her breakfast in bed once in a while. Take the kids to the park so she can read a book or have a bath. And, for pity's sake, grow up."

As she walked away Claire remembered another conversation, a lifetime ago, when she'd said the same to Michael.

When am I going to find a man who wants a partner not a parent?

Puzzling over the impossible riddle, Claire headed to her room.

***

ELEVEN

"What will you do?"

Claire stood in front of Josh and drew circles in the dust with her toe. She'd come down to breakfast to find him waiting outside the hostel with his bag.

"I'm getting a shuttle to Christchurch in about half an hour. I can catch a flight from there back home."

Without looking, Claire imagined the hurt in his eyes: the sense of betrayal. She couldn't blame him. Having lain awake most of the night reliving her diatribe, she was certain he couldn't hate her more than she hated herself. Words of apology filled her mouth but refused to be spoken, in case they broke her resolve. Wrapping her arms around herself against the early morning chill, Claire looked down the road past Josh.

"What about your tour ticket? I didn't even ask whether you bought a package for the bus? I know how extortionate the prices are; are you out of pocket?"

"Nah. I chucked the driver some dollars, said I was chasing a pretty lady. Guess he figured we'd sort it out one way or another after a few stops. He was right, wasn't he?"

Claire turned involuntarily to face him, and wished she hadn't. His pale face and the dark circles beneath his eyes told their own tale. Hugging herself tighter, Claire resisted the urge to run her hands through his unkempt hair. No matter how much she knew she was doing the right thing, it still hurt like hell.

"What will you tell Fiona?"

Josh's face twisted into something between a grimace and a sneer. "I'll have to tell her the truth, I guess. It's not like anything happened." The bitterness in his voice tore at Claire and she inhaled, ready to defend herself.

"No, don't bother." His voice softened and he rubbed at his face as if scrubbing away his ill humour. "I'm being an arse. I deserved everything you said last night. I am being a child. Fiona was always there for me, you know, before the kids. I suppose I came to rely on her. Now she needs me, and I've done nothing but cause her agro."

"Do you need to tell her all the truth? Don't hurt her just to ease your own guilty conscience. Why not tell her you needed time away to think?"

Claire wasn't sure if advising Josh to conceal the complete truth was a brilliant idea. But she didn't relish the notion of Fiona seeking revenge, or throwing her husband out for something he hadn't done; even if he'd wanted to.

Josh didn't respond, but Claire was rewarded by seeing a hint of colour return to his cheeks.

"You always know the right thing to say or not say," he said eventually. "Have you considered a job with the UN?"

Claire felt the seriousness pass, heralding a return to the lightness of friendship. She welcomed it. "Me a diplomat? Not likely: I don't have an ounce of tact. I'm going to have to think of something, though. I can't be an unemployed traveller forever. Not least because the money's going to run out soon."

"What will you do?" Josh echoed Claire's question from earlier.

She laughed. "I have no idea. Go home, I guess. Find a job. Go and work for Conor. Who knows? Maybe I'll set up a bus tour in the UK, so there are fewer unsuspecting girls offering lifts to strangers."

She wished the words unsaid as soon as she uttered them.

"Do you regret it? Coming to the observatory? Giving me a ride?"

Claire shook her head, unable to speak around the lump in her throat. She winced as the movement aggravated the sore muscle in her neck. Josh reached into his bag and brought out a small white box.

"Diclofenac. For the pain. It's the least I can do." He held them out to her and, after a moment's hesitation, Claire took them.

"Thanks."

"There you are. Ridding you of two pains in the neck in one go." He smiled his lopsided grin and Claire felt tears sneak out and dribble down her face.

The sound of an approaching vehicle made them both turn.

"That's my lift," Josh said, "the hostel manager's taking me to the shuttle."

They stood together watching the car approach. Too soon it was parked in front of them, and it was time to say goodbye.

Claire stood with her arms hanging by her sides as Josh threw his bag into the foot well. He turned and tilted his head, peering under her mane of hair until she met his eyes.

"No hard feelings?"

Claire shook her head.

Josh held out his arms. "Hug?"

With a nod, Claire stepped into his embrace.

"I'm going to miss you," Josh whispered into her hair.

"Me too," Claire mumbled, before turning to walk slowly towards the hostel. She waited for the sound of the car door, the rev of the engine. As the wheels span in the dust she turned and watched the car drive away.

***

TWELVE

Claire gazed out the window as the ocean crashed against the shore, raising spray that would envelop the bus were they just a bit closer. She'd heard that the west coast was nicknamed the wet coast, and that seemed about right.

The heavy grey skies and angry sea soothed her, as if their rage forced her to be calm. Rain poured down the windows, enhancing rather than marring the view. Claire could see tree-covered hills climbing upwards from the other side of the bus. She curled in towards the window and let the weather entertain her.

The bus slowed and Claire roused herself to see why they had stopped. The driver explained that they were at a seal colony and anyone who fancied braving the rain was welcome to have a look around.

Claire uncurled herself and searched in her bag for a raincoat. Making her way to the front of the bus she realised she was the only person getting off. She was about to sit back down when a giggling couple from the front also disembarked. With a twisted smile, Claire decided she would run, if need be, to get away from them.

Outside, signposts led her down a walkway, slippery in the rain, towards the seal colony. All around her tall spiky plants stabbed at the sky.

There was no one else around as Claire followed the path to the viewing platform. Wind dragged hair across her face and the rain blew in sideways.

This was a stupid idea. I should have stayed on the bus. Knowing my luck they'll leave without me.

Blinded by her wet hair, Claire almost walked into the railing. She rested her hands on the wood and searched the rocks for seals.

If they've got any sense they'll be hiding in a cave somewhere out of the weather. Even if they are there I'm not going to see them through this.

Heaving a sigh that was swept away on the wind, Claire turned to walk back to the car park. Her stomach roiled like the pewter-grey waves and an almost overwhelming urge not to get back on the bus swept over her. The rigid routine, the upholstered seats, even Bethan's unending good humour, felt like a cage that she was finally free from.

Claire pulled her hood tight around her face and leant in to the wind. With no seals to see, she knew there was no option but to go back and get on with her trip. Retracing her steps she didn't notice the sign until she walked into it.

Who puts a bloody signpost in the middle of the footpath?

She rubbed her head and looked up at the offending pillar. It was one of the tourist signs, like she had seen at Cape Reinga, showing the distances to places near and far.

London 16,286km. I don't think I wanted to know that. I might as well be on the moon.

It was a long way home

Back on the bus, Claire felt like she'd gate-crashed a party. All the passengers who had decided to stay warm and dry were gathered in groups, chatting and laughing. Claire sidled up the aisle to her seat and slid in to skulk by the window.

"Claire, you're back!"

Claire turned as Bethan bounced onto the seat next to her.

"How were the seals? Nice and dry I see."

"Ha ha. What did I miss? Feels like a festival in here."

"Everyone's discussing their fancy dress costume for this evening."

"Fancy dress?" Claire groaned. Now she really wanted to get off the bus.

"Yes, apparently we have to source our outfit in town later, before we get to the Poo Pub tonight."

"Poo Pub?" Claire felt like a parrot, but she didn't know what else to say.

Maybe I sent Josh away too soon. Fancy dress and silliness are much more his thing than mine.

Claire wrapped her arms around herself and curled into the window. It was going to be a long day.

***

THIRTEEN

"What are we searching for exactly?"

Claire looked across the racks of clothing to Bethan, who was holding up various items against her and contemplating her reflection in the mirror.

"Fancy dress."

"I gathered that. I meant, what are you going as? And what the hell can I wear?"

"The theme is anything beginning with P. So I thought I might go as a prostitute." She grinned at Claire's shocked expression. "Too much? What about a princess? You should do that, you look much more Disney than I do."

"I don't know, you could be Pocahontas."

"She was Native American, not Thai."

Claire blushed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you, it was a stupid thing to say."

Bethan laughed. "That's alright, I know you didn't. You're not likely to be up on the Disney princesses unless you have a four-year-old girl hidden about your person."

The flush deepened. "Well, actually I did spend a few weeks with my niece recently, but all those princesses muddle together after a while. There was an Oriental one, now I think about it."

"Mulan. Chinese. Closer but still offensive." Although Bethan spoke with laughter in her voice, her face looked brittle.

"Sorry."

Bethan looked up and her face became more sympathetic. "Oriental is a racist term in America, is that not the same in England?"

Claire shook her head. "Not that I know of. Better than calling someone Chinese when they're really from Japan or Thailand, surely?"

"In America you use Oriental for things, not people. Asian is a better word."

Claire swallowed and nodded, feeling like she'd been told off. Wanting to change the subject, she ran through other fancy dress ideas beginning with P. "Right. Not princesses then. Pigs? Paupers? That shouldn't be a problem; I'm going to be poor by the time this trip is over."

She glanced at Bethan and saw a flicker of disapproval flash across her face.

Now what have I said?

They had been travelling together for a week and this was the first time Claire had sensed anything but happiness in Bethan's demeanour. The moment passed and Claire searched her mind for a simple fancy dress costume that wouldn't cost the earth or humiliate her. Not that there was anyone left on the bus whose opinion she cared about apart from Bethan, and she'd already offended her twice.

Bethan held up a sequin covered top and some sunglasses, all trace of censure gone. She grinned. "How about pop stars?"

"Do you want another drink?" Bethan yelled over the music.

Claire shook her head and then wished she hadn't. "No," she yelled back, "I think I'm going to be sick."

Bethan nodded, downed her drink in one, and grabbed hold of Claire's arm.

Claire let herself be towed through the writhing bodies, the music pulsing in time with the throbbing in her head and drowning out all attempts at rational thought. The dinner of steak and venison, delicious at the time, sat heavy in her stomach. She really didn't want to see it again.

Outside, the music still filled the air but left some space to think. The chill autumn wind rushed over her bare skin, raising goosebumps and drying the sweat. Claire slumped against the wall and gripped her head with both hands.

"You okay?" Bethan squatted beside her and peered under the mass of back-combed hair that concealed Claire's face.

"I think so. What time is it?"

Bethan checked her watch. "1 a.m. Apparently they'll chuck us out at 2 a.m."

"I'm not going to last that long. I need to go to bed." Claire slid down the wall, ignoring the damp seeping through her tights as she sat on the floor. The events of the evening swam through her mind like a movie montage.

"Did I do a drinking game?"

"Yes. You were very good."

"Snog the driver as a forfeit?"

"'fraid so."

"Dance on the tables?"

Bethan shrugged. "It was Bon Jovi and you're dressed as an '80s pop star. I thought the balloon in a bottle as a microphone was an inspired touch."

"Are there going to be pictures of us on the wall, like all the others?"

Bethan nodded and laughed as Claire groaned. "Look at it this way, who do you know who is ever going to come to this dirty motel in the middle of nowhere and scour thousands of polaroids to find your embarrassing photo?"

Claire grunted in agreement but it was small consolation.

Bethan laughed again. "Relax, Claire. This is all part of travelling. You joined in, made some new friends, drank some shots. You won't remember most of it in the morning and I promise not to remind you more than, ooh, once an hour?"

"Thanks."

"Are you coming back in? It's freezing out here and I'm starting to sober up. I need a drink."

Claire gave a tiny shake of the head. As Bethan stood up, Claire risked raising her head to make eye contact.

"Bethan, can you do me a favour?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Can you show me where my bed is please?"

With a giggle, Bethan pulled her to her feet and let her to the dorm rooms.

***

FOURTEEN

"Wake up, Claire."

"Wuh?" Claire turned at the sound of the voice intruding on her dreams. She could feel drool running down the side of her mouth and prayed she hadn't been snoring.

"Hey, sleepy head, we're at Franz Josef. Time to get off the bus."

"We're here? What did I miss?"

Bethan chuckled. "Most of the day."

Claire stretched and peered out the window. "Doesn't look like much of a town." She pulled her bag up from the foot well and climbed to her feet.

"We're not here for the town." Bethan's smile suggested hidden secrets. Claire didn't have to wonder what the joke was for long.

As she exited the bus, she stopped and stared. "Holy moly. Where did they come from?"

Up ahead, mountains rose to the heavens. A tree-covered conical mount dominated the foreground, symmetrical and green, as if someone had let moss grow over a mole hill. Then, in the distance, snow covered peaks, with a valley carved between them like a giant had split them with a machete.

"That's where the glacier is, over there. I'm doing the heli-hike tomorrow, if you fancy it?"

Claire shook her head, partly in wonder, partly in denial. She'd seen the cost of the helicopter ride and couldn't justify the expense. Yes it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, but there were too many of them on the trip. She thought she might do a half-day hike, if the men with hammers moved out of her head sometime soon.

As if sensing her pain, Bethan linked arms with her and asked gently, "How is the head? Do you feel better for the sleep?"

"I'd probably feel better if I drank a gallon of water." Claire forced the words out of her parched throat. "Please tell me there are no more parties planned for this evening? I'm not as young as I used to be."

"What do you mean we don't actually walk on the ice? I thought it was possible to climb up and see the ice caves?"

The man behind the desk shook his head. "Not any more, love. Terminal face collapsed last year. Access by 'copter only."

"I can't afford the heli-hike."

"There's always Fox."

"I can't get to Fox, I'm on the bus. It's here or no-where."

The man in the tourist info shrugged, as if to say he was out of options. Bethan came to stand next to Claire.

"Come on the heli-hike, it'll be worth it, if the weather is okay. Once in a lifetime experience, Claire. Worry about the money when you get home."

"That's easy enough to say," Claire responded, "but if I don't reign in my spending, I won't even make it home."

"Why don't you get a job? A few weeks in Wanaka pulling pints will restore your funds."

Claire laughed without humour. "I'd have to pull more than pints to fill the hole in my bank balance. Any rich sugar daddies in Wanaka?"

Bethan's expression grew sombre. Then she gave a shake of her long black hair and the smile returned as if nothing had happened.

"Why not decide in the morning? See what the weather's doing. It's not like it's peak season, you might get on."

With a sigh, Claire agreed, and let Bethan guide her back to the hostel.

***

FIFTEEN

"Come on, Claire, wake up. You're coming on an adventure."

Claire rolled over and peered at the source of the voice through sticky eyes.

"Go away, Bethan."

"Nope. You don't want to miss this. Sell your fancy boots if you have to, this is a once in a lifetime trip. The sun has even put in an appearance. Come on."

Claire pulled the covers over her head, then shivered and swore as Bethan dragged them off. Her skin goosebumped as freezing air rushed across her body.

"You are not a good friend, Bethan." Claire frowned, but swung her legs round and stood up. "How long have I got?"

"Ten minutes. Don't bother with a shower: you'll be too wrapped up for anyone to notice, and our tickets get us a free dip in the hot springs tonight. Besides, if you go up with wet hair you'll freeze."

"Am I at least allowed breakfast?"

"You can grab something in town. Come on!" Bethan hopped on the spot, finally making Claire laugh.

"What's got you so excited?"

"What do you mean? This is the trip of New Zealand. Forget swimming with dolphins and chucking yourself off a bridge: this is it. It's going to be amazing."

"I'll take your word for it."

Claire pulled on her warmest clothes and tried not to find her friend's enthusiasm irritating.

As the helicopter thrummed into life, Claire regretted letting Bethan bully her into taking part in the trip. They were squeezed into a tiny box and were about to launch into the air: claustrophobia and fear of heights all packaged up in one neat parcel of misery.

Claire turned to face Bethan and wasn't surprised to see her grinning. With a shake of the head, Claire focussed on keeping her breathing even and urging the greasy pastry and burnt coffee she'd consumed for breakfast to stay put in her stomach.

Glancing out the window, Claire's tummy flipped as she realised they were already a long way off the ground. She hadn't felt the helicopter take off at all. The cab was all windows, and she could see the ground over the pilot's shoulder as the landscape quickly went from flat glacial plain to climbing mountains and then the dirty grey ice of the glacier itself.

They climbed higher and higher, until everything was white. The ground came in to meet them as the helicopter settled down on the ice with barely a bump. As they jumped down from the helicopter and ran across the snow, Claire felt like a spy in a movie, and the excitement began to build inside her.

With a blast of air, the helicopter rose and flew away, leaving them abandoned with nothing in view but white. Then Claire spotted another helicopter depositing hikers in the distance: tiny black specks against the vista. Until then she hadn't appreciated how vast the glacier was.

"Okay, Bethan, you were right. This is a bit cool."

Bethan grinned, then bent to help the guide attach crampons to her boots. Claire did the same, cursing at her numb and clumsy fingers. She hoped the hiking wasn't too strenuous.

When everyone had the proper kit, the group followed the guide across the ice. Claire had little idea what to expect. She knew the caves were a must-see, but didn't really know why.

When the guide stopped outside a narrow fissure, she almost laughed. Then she watched as the group wriggled inside, one at a time.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me. I've done my small-space terror-inducing experiences already, thanks. Caving, weaselling, I don't need this."

"Don't be a scaredy-cat, Claire," Bethan called, as she took her place in the queue. "You can't see the blue ice properly from the outside. Come on!"

Feeling like a small child being continually chided by their parent, Claire did as she was told. The familiar blackness of fear swept over her as the walls closed in. Pushing herself through, glad of the thick jacket and warm clothing, Claire concentrated on forcing oxygen in and out of her lungs.

The cave opened up and all around shone blue. Fear evaporated as Claire drank in the scene, before fumbling for her camera.

"Wow." Her voice sounded subdued, not echoing as it would in a rocky cave. A shaft of sunlight pierced through the blue, lighting up a dozen different shades. It was like being immersed in an abstract painting.

Claire realised with a start that the rest of the group had walked on and she shuffled after them, nearly dropping her camera in her haste. This was not a place to be left behind.

Back outside, the view of the glacier surprised her. She'd imagined it would be smooth, like a long sheet of ice. Instead it rose in pinnacles, reminiscent of a spiky plant or coral or something seen under a microscope. Fissures and caves could be seen revealing the blue of the oxygen starved ice inside. She wondered how safe it was for them to be hiking around up in the ice and how many people they lost.

Eventually the thrum of the helicopter returning rolled around the mountain. Claire felt a mixture of sadness and relief. It had been an amazing experience but the alien feel of the landscape left her on edge and longing for a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

Bethan chattered away about the awesomeness of it all and her gratitude that Claire had shared it with her. Claire only half heard the words: they triggered thoughts for her that she didn't want to hear. Just experiencing such beauty didn't seem enough. The important part was being able to share it: to tell someone and recreate the experience for them; to re-live it through their enthusiasm and eager questioning.

Oh, she had the blog and that was fun, although half the time it felt like her words were dropping into the ether, heard by no one. But this – this amazing once-in-a-lifetime not-to-be-missed adventure – didn't feel real, any more than if she'd read it herself on someone else's blog. Yes, her nose tingled from the cold, and her mind fizzed with the imagery. But already it was fading.

By the time they landed she felt as if the experience had evaporated completely, leaving only emptiness behind.

***

SIXTEEN

Claire lay back in the pool and watched the sun disappearing through the trees. Giant sails blocked out most of the sky, although she could just see glimpses of pink from the setting sun in the gaps around the edges. The heat seeped into her tired muscles and forced her to relax.

Bethan swam languidly up to where she lay, and propped her chin on her crossed arms so she could watch the people walking past.

"So, was this worth it then? Lovely, isn't it? I can't remember the last time I had a bath."

"I wondered what the smell was." Claire smiled to show she was joking: after the conversation in Warehouse, she felt more fearful of offending her friend.

"Ha ha," Bethan responded, flipping over to face the same direction as Claire.

"Sorry. Yes, it's lovely. Far less eggy than the last hot pool I lay in. Less mucky, too."

"Let me guess, Hot Water Beach?"

"Yes. Seems a long time ago now. I don't suppose it was, really." Claire swished her legs through the water, deliberating whether she had the energy for a swim.

"Travelling does strange things to time." Bethan sounded thoughtful, and Claire wondered if she was thinking of her own journey. Aside from the information that she'd spent two years in America, Bethan had shared little about her personal life.

She was about to ask how long Bethan planned to stay in New Zealand, when she sensed the girl stiffen. Looking over, she saw her gaze fixed on something across the pool. Her face drained of colour and Claire wondered if she was going to faint.

"Are you okay?"

Bethan didn't seem to hear her. Unsure what to do, Claire hovered near her shoulder, ready to offer support if required. After a moment or two, Bethan's face lost its rigidity and she took a deep breath. She turned towards Claire and seemed surprised to see her so close.

"Sorry, were you saying something?"

"Nothing important. Are you alright? You look like you saw a ghost."

Bethan laughed and her voice shook. "I thought I had."

Claire raised her eyebrows in query, and Bethan shook her head.

Although her mind clamoured with curious questions, Claire closed her lips tight and tried to respect her friend's need for silence.

After a while, Bethan spoke quietly. "I saw someone who looked like my husband: shocked me for a moment"

Claire's eyes widened. She'd taken Bethan for someone in their very early twenties, not a married woman. She glanced at her friend's hand, but already knew she didn't wear a ring. She'd never mentioned a husband waiting for her at home. Again she wanted to ask questions, but something stopped her.

Her reticence was unnecessary, as Bethan answered her unspoken queries anyway.

"No, I don't wear a ring. We're not married anymore. Yes I was a young bride. Your stereotypical Thai bride, I suppose. I married a man to get to America. In the beginning, anyway. But I loved him, oh so very much."

Claire's mind churned. She pictured Bethan with some old man, like couples she'd seen sometimes in town, and the thought made her uncomfortable. Bethan seemed to sense her emotions: Claire guessed she'd heard all the comments and criticism before and had her defence memorised.

"Yes, he was older, old enough to be my dad. But he had a young spirit. He was sexy, too. We had fun." Her voice broke.

"What happened?" Claire didn't want to ask but was finally unable to keep quiet.

"He had cancer. I didn't know straight away. He never mentioned it in his letters and phone calls. I think he wanted to see if I would come for him, not because I thought I'd inherit his money when he died."

"Did he? Die?" Claire wished the words unsaid, shocked at her lack of tact, but Bethan merely nodded.

"After only one year. And then the family came, although they never visited before, not once. Wouldn't even come to the wedding. Like vultures they were. They contested the will; said ours was a sham marriage. I didn't want to fight it. He'd saved some money no one knew about, so I left them to their law suit and their petty jealousy and I did what he asked me to do. I started travelling, seeing the places he never saw. Doing things like kayaking with seals and hiking on glaciers."

Claire drifted in the hot water and thought about everything Bethan had said. To have experienced so much, at such a young age. Moving across the world to marry a near-stranger. Losing a beloved husband to illness, then being left to fight the relatives. No wonder Bethan seemed older than her years at times. She ached with empathy for her friend.

"You must miss him."

"I do."

They floated together in silence, listening to giggling groups and murmuring couples, splashing water and the call of birds in the trees. The sky grew dark around them, until it was time to leave.

"Thank you." Bethan's voice croaked with lack of use.

"What for?" Claire turned, surprised.

"For not judging me. For letting me grieve in silence."

"Who am I to judge? What do I know of what true love is? I can't imagine moving a hundred miles for anyone I've met so far, never mind half way round the world, away from my country and my family. How do you ever know it's worth it?"

"When you finally meet him, the question won't even occur to you."

Her words should have sounded smug, but they didn't. Instead they gave Claire hope.

Hooking her arm through Bethan's, the girls headed out to get dry.

***

SEVENTEEN

As Claire gazed at the scene in front of her, the early start seemed worth every ounce of effort. Like a mystical mirror, the lake stretched out flat to the horizon. Either side, dark trees framed the scene, both above and below the water's edge, creating an expanding line of perspective towards her. At the vanishing point, the mountains took over; climbing away to the sky. In the distance, Mount Cook and Mount Tasman fought for brilliant in hues of grey, blue and white.

Claire breathed in the morning air, and watched the puff of cloud as she exhaled. She pulled her jacket closer around her as the icy air prized open her foggy brain. This far south, winter had the island in its grip and she was in no mood to linger, despite the beauty of the scene.

All around her, Claire heard the chatter of disinterested tourists. She could see one or two photographers desperate to grab the perfect picture of absolute stillness and reflected symmetry. She wondered how they could stand the influx of tourists, come to take their quick snaps and move on.

How many visitors accidentally snap the perfect shot, not realising others have waited hours and days for the privilege?

Claire looked at the picture on her phone. It probably wouldn't pass a perfectionist's eye, but it looked damned near perfect to her: a magical place.

Shame about the noise.

Unable to stand it any longer, Claire headed back to the bus and the travellers who hadn't even bothered with the walk but were tucking into breakfast in the café. As she arrived at the car park, she saw a girl load her camera into her bag and climb into a rusty red hatchback.

The girl caught her eye and smiled, seeming to say, "Rather you than me on the bus." She couldn't disagree.

Claire climbed down the bus steps, grateful that it was for the last time that day. She felt like she'd done nothing but get on and off the bus, to marvel at one tourist attraction after another until they all blurred together in her mind. She had no idea how she would identify which was which in her pictures when it came time to write the blog. For now she was just happy that she had at least twelve hours before she had to get on the bus again. It felt like escaping from jail.

Wanaka town was bigger than she'd expected; a sprawling collection of buildings spread out along the lakeside. The lake itself shone beneath the blue sky, framed by tall trees still bearing the orange hues of autumn. Claire imagined it must have been spectacular a few weeks before.

A feeling of snow pervaded the air, and it wasn't hard to imagine the town as a winter resort. It seemed odd that a few weeks earlier she'd been in her shorts: the difference in climate from north to south was much more than she was used to.

Dumping her rucksack in her dorm room, Claire declined Bethan's suggestion to go for a drink, and walked in long strides down to the shore. Her shoulders itched with a need to get away from people. Following a cycle path, Claire walked around the edge of the lake, beneath the autumn trees, kicking at the fallen leaves beneath her feet.

The further she got from the town the lighter she felt until, at last, the buildings were out of sight and she felt like skipping. It was too cold to sit and admire the view so she kept walking, intent on nothing but solitude.

This is crazy. It's the beginning of summer at home. Why am I freezing my arse off on the wrong side of the world? Yes, it's beautiful, but so is Scotland or Wales or the Lake District. Why did I travel the UK in winter only to do the same a few months later here in New Zealand? It's official; I've lost the plot.

Claire spotted a bench overlooking the lake. Perching on the edge she pulled out her phone and checked the itinerary she had downloaded for the bus trip.

Another ten days until we're back in Auckland, although at least it will probably be warmer back in the north. She read through the schedule again. I wonder if I could fly home from Christchurch.

Suddenly getting home seemed more important than anything else. Even though she knew there was no one expecting her, no job or car or house to return home to, she needed to be back where she belonged.

Vowing to call the airline company in the morning, Claire jumped down from the bench and began striding back to town.

***

EIGHTEEN

"Aren't you coming into Puzzling World?"

Claire looked from Bethan's eager expression to the building with the illusion tower outside that people were pretending to hold up, as if it were the Leaning Tower of Pisa. Except this wasn't Italian architecture, it was a money trap for tourists.

"No thanks, this isn't my idea of New Zealand, any more than tobogganing down a sand dune or racing round a track on an aerial bike. I'm exhausted by the endless ways we're encouraged to part with our cash."

"Oh, come on Claire, lighten up. You are a tourist, you know. You're only here for a few weeks, why not experience as much as you can?"

"Because I'm skint, and I'm tired of being a sheep and it's all a con." Claire saw the smile slip from Bethan's face and stopped her rant. "I'm sorry, ignore me. I'm tired. I was up late, thinking about stuff. You go on; I'm going to catch up on my email."

Bethan shrugged and ran ahead to join the rest of the group. Claire felt a pang as she watched her leave. She'd meant every word, but she hadn't intended to belittle Bethan's enthusiasm.

I don't know what's wrong with me. This is a trip of a lifetime and I'm being a complete grouch. What's that kiwi song? Weather with you? We'll I've certainly brought my black clouds with me.

Finding a bench in the weak wintry sun, Claire zipped up her jacket before loading her emails, expecting only blog comments and junk. When she saw Conor's name her heart gave an odd lurch. He hadn't texted for a while, and she only now realised the hole left by the absence of his happy messages. Her heart thudded uncomfortably as she loaded the email.

Hi Claire

I've spoken with my boss regarding my wish for you to join the company, knowing that you are reluctant to curtail your travels in order to take a full time position.

The Board have agreed to offer you a temporary contract that will also incorporate an element of hands on research. This will entail visiting hostels and tourist attractions in the surrounding counties to undertake a benchmark exercise on where Isle of Purbeck tourism sits at present.

At the end of three months you will be expected to prepare and deliver a presentation of your recommendations, including your vision for the future of Purbeck Tourism. The following three months will be spent drawing up implementation plans from your findings.

If this is of interest to you, please let me know as soon as possible. I understand that you are still travelling in New Zealand – perhaps there is something to be learned from their tourism and attractions also?

Extension of your contract will be dependent on your recommendations and implementation plans being accepted by the Board.

I look forward to hearing from you regarding this matter.

Conor

Claire read the message several times to ensure she had understood it correctly. Conor's formal business language made it hard to grasp the full extent of the deal. At last she gathered that he was offering her everything she could want and more.

I get to continue travelling and get paid? The man's a magician.

The idea that Conor was trying to impress her flitted through her mind, only to be dismissed. There was nothing in his demeanour or his communications to suggest anything other than a working relationship, albeit it a much more light-hearted and friendly one than she'd ever managed with her former boss. Claire tried to imagine Carl sending her jokes by text, and laughed at the absurdity of the thought.

Scanning the message one more time, Claire quickly tapped out a reply.

Hi Conor

How can I refuse such generous terms? I'll be back home in a week. Jetlag aside, I should be able to start work immediately (I need the cash!)

Looking forward to hearing more about the contract. Off now to investigate one of NZ's most popular tourist attractions.

Talk soon.

Claire

With a wide smile, Claire slipped her phone into her bag and strode towards the entrance.

***

**NINETEEN**

"Are you okay, Claire?"

Claire opened her eyes and looked at Bethan, before closing them tight again.

"No."

Around them, the aircraft vibrated as it climbed into the clouds. The man behind Claire kept checking an altimeter in his hand and providing a running commentary.

"Ten thousand feet... eleven thousand feet...twelve thousand feet..."

Claire wished he would stop.

"Remind me why I let you talk me into this?" She yelled above the noise of the engines.

"So you could impress your new boss." Bethan yelled back.

"Maybe I could just buy him a beer?" Claire thought about it some more. "I've already done grade five water rafting, hiked across a glacier and kayaked with seals. This probably wasn't necessary."

"But just think how cool you'll look. It was this or the bungee jump."

Claire's stomach lurched at the idea. For some reason jumping out of a plane at fifteen thousand feet seemed an easier option than throwing herself off a bridge with a piece of elastic tied to her ankles. This way, at least it wouldn't actually be her doing the jumping. She was pretty certain the burly blonde man designated her tandem partner would make sure she didn't chicken out.

"Fifteen thousand feet," the man announced on cue. "Time to get ready, ladies."

Claire looked around the cabin at the other passengers. She seemed to be the only one not grinning. Even the seventy-year-old grannie was peering through the open doorway with interest. Maybe you worried less about dying when you'd lived more of your life.

It was the grannie that had swung it, in the end. Bethan's entreaties had fallen on deaf ears. She'd let herself be talked into the heli-hike and, although it had been beautiful, she wasn't sure it had been worth the money. This was equally expensive, especially with the extra for the photographic evidence, and Claire was pretty certain she was going to enjoy it a lot less. Then the old lady had turned up, and shame had taken over.

Claire felt numb as she followed the burly man's instructions, listening intently as he ran through again how she had to hold her arms and what she needed to do on landing.

Then, before she knew what was happening, a body plummeted from the plane. Claire's heart skipped and her instinct was to reach out and grab at the disappearing figure. Then another person fell, and she realised they had started to jump. Her stomach knotted tight and she thought she might be sick.

One by one the passengers disappeared from view at incredible speed until she was the last one left.

"Let me go back down in the aircraft, I've changed my mind." She could feel the blood draining from her face and wondered if the man would still jump if she passed out.

"Sorry, chick, there's only one way down. You'll be fine, no worries."

He shoved her towards the gaping hole, and Claire just had time to register the blue of the lake and the blend of green and white of mountains before air was rushing past her and she was falling.

Shock pushed all the air from her lungs and she gasped, unable to breathe. The wind pulled at her cheeks and the cold burned her skin. Claire barely registered the ground leaping up to meet her or the other skydivers around them, until her host tapped her on the arm and she looked over to where he pointed.

Falling alongside them was the camera girl. She waved and gave a thumbs up. Claire tried to smile but her face was frozen in a mask of fear.

The camera girl circled them, taking pictures, before changing her body position so she could dive to the next person and photograph them. Part of Claire's brain marvelled at her casual ease, as if she were walking across a garden rather than plummeting at 200km an hour through the sky.

A sudden jolt told Claire the parachute had opened. She watched as other chutes opened beneath her. She could see some of the people swinging from side to side, spinning in spirals down to the lake. It looked like fun. She waited for her host to do the same, but he didn't.

Still breathless and panting, she was unable to ask him why they were falling so sedately. Disappointment clouded her vision and she looked at the view below through jaded eyes. Her host clearly thought she was having a panic attack and wanted to get her to the ground quickly and gently.

She wanted to explain she was fine, that it was only the shock of the jump that had stopped her breathing, but there wasn't time. The land once more rushed up to meet them, and before she knew what was happening, it was time to lift her feet up and let the man land.

Sadness fought with exhilaration and, eventually, elation won.

"That was amazing! I want to go again, now!" Claire looked around for someone to hug, and saw Bethan running towards her.

"Aren't you glad you did it? How awesome was that? Especially the spinning at the end."

Claire's face fell. "I didn't get to do that, I think Muscles over there thought I was too scared." She saw Bethan frown, and realised she was being a killjoy. "But, oh my goodness, it was brilliant. Thank you so much for convincing me to do it."

They walked arm in arm to return their kit and watch the video. Claire wondered how she would drop it into conversation with Conor that she had jumped from an aircraft at fifteen thousand feet. She wondered if he would be impressed.

***

TWENTY

Claire looked out the window at the changing scenery and wondered if she'd make a mistake. It felt lonely knowing that Bethan wasn't on the bus.

I would have had to say goodbye in a few days anyway. Travelling is all about meeting people and then saying goodbye to them, carrying them with us in our hearts.

She smiled at how corny that sounded, although no less true for all that. Bethan had begged her to stay in Queenstown for the extra day, but Claire felt no pull to stay in the famous town. Despite the lure of luging and drinking and other activities, she wanted to get on and get home.

I guess I could have missed out the bottom bus completely, but I really want to see the sea lions.

The brochure said she could do a wildlife tour in Dunedin and that had been enough to persuade her. Bethan hadn't understood that she'd rather do that than drink shots out of tea pots.

I'm surprised too. I must be getting old.

She turned her attention back to the view, as the bus pulled into a town. She guessed it must be Dunedin, although it was nothing like she had expected. Apart from Wellington, it was the first really hilly town she'd seen, and the buildings seemed to be made of stone rather than wood.

As they drove through the streets, Claire peered out the window and felt a quickening in her tummy. It seemed familiar, as if she'd visited before in a past life. She soaked in the grey stone, the university buildings, the formal gardens and smiled.

I could be in any northern British town.

It felt like home

The bus pulled up at the bottom of what looked like a residential street. Claire wondered if they had arrived at the hostel, although it didn't look like the centre of town, where she thought the hostel was located.

"Right, peeps. We're at Baldwin Street. World's steepest street. Climb to the top and back and you get a certificate."

The driver finished his terse announcement, got out of the bus and lit a roll-up. Claire followed all the other passengers, glad to stretch her legs.

Outside it was raining, a light mizzling rain that hadn't been noticeable as they drove through town, although it probably explained the greyness of the buildings. Claire looked up the street and wondered if she had the energy to climb it. It didn't look too bad from the bottom, but she knew looks could be deceptive.

Some eager passengers started up the hill at a run, but soon dropped to a jog and then a walk. As she climbed, Claire marvelled at the buildings, where the road started at the lower floor window and passed somewhere near the upper floor. She took some pictures and kept on climbing, ignoring the burn in her thighs and the lack of oxygen in her lungs.

At last she reached the top and turned to survey the view. It was worth the climb. The road dropped like a child's slide beneath her, a straight ribbon of tarmac. In the distance, tree covered hills hugged the little bit of town she could see. The sun had broken through the clouds on the other side of the valley, and its rays lit the fields like a spotlight. More than any place she had visited in New Zealand, the place felt welcoming; as if she belonged there.

With a sigh, Claire put her camera away and headed back down to the bus.

***

TWENTY-ONE

Claire waved at the minibus and it pulled up beside her. A tanned man in his thirties beamed at her through the window, before jumping down and opening the door for her to get in.

"G'day, you must be Claire. Welcome to the tour." He checked her name off against a clipboard, then ran back round the bus.

With a quick glance at the other passengers, Claire found a free seat and gazed out the window. There were only five or six people on the bus and she wondered if there were more people to collect. Her question was soon answered as the driver turned round to address the group.

"It's just us today, folks, so should be a lovely quiet trip out to the peninsular. None of you are booked on the Albatross Experience, so we'll spend a short time up at Taiaroa Head and see if we can spot some flying in. It's the only mainland albatross colony in the world. Then we'll head out to the beach and see the rest of the wildlife. Any questions just holler and I'll try and answer them."

As the bus pulled away, Claire revelled in the silence of a small group. It felt strange to be in a vehicle smaller than a coach, but it was great to be able to see the streets around her as they left the city.

Before long they were driving round a bay, heading for the Otago peninsular. The road hugged the coast as they made their way to the albatross centre. Overhead, blue sky blazed in between the pure white clouds scudding past.

At last the minibus climbed up a winding lane and arrived outside a long low building. The wind hit them like a wall as they headed for the bluff. Claire tugged her jacket closer and bent her head into the wind.

"Good weather for flying," the driver yelled over the noise. "They need good lift to keep them airborne; they're big birds. Keep yer eyes peeled."

Claire gazed up at the sky, blinking away the tears dragged out by the wind. She wasn't so sure she was bothered about seeing a giant seagull and wondered if the centre sold coffee. Tucking her hands under her arms to keep them warm, she stamped her feet and looked about to see what the other passengers were doing. She didn't want to go inside and get left behind.

One of the couples were shouting at each other and pointing at the sky. Claire thought they were fighting, then realised they had seen something. Following the direction of their gesturing, she saw an enormous bird circling low before disappearing behind the building.

"Wow!" Even though she knew that albatrosses were big birds, nothing had prepared her for just how large.

"Keep watching. It'll come back out shortly."

Claire kept her eyes trained on the sky, while reaching for her phone to take a picture. As predicted, the bird re-emerged and Claire grabbed some shots, sure the bird would only be a tiny speck when she looked at the images later.

Buoyed by the experience, the passengers chatted together as they headed back to the bus. Claire wasn't sure if the couples all knew each other, or were just being friendly. She didn't feel like talking, so she hung at the back near the driver.

"Right, next stop sea lions. We'll drive through the wetlands so you can see the sea birds and waders, but it'll be good to get down to the beach fairly early, the weather often shifts later in the afternoon."

Claire let the driver's words wash over her, glad for once to follow along like a sheep. Despite the cost of the tour, this was the real New Zealand and she was happy to enjoy every minute.

The next hour passed in a blur of bird names and beautiful scenery. Claire realised how little she actually knew about any sort of wildlife, as the other passengers discussed this and that type of bird. She breathed a sigh of relief when they finally pulled up at the sea lion beach. This was what she had come for.

"Right. Just some rules before we reach the beach. These fellas are huge, but they won't attack unless provoked. Don't get between a sea lion and the sea and, whatever you do, don't turn your back on them. If need be, run."

Claire laughed, sure the driver was joking. He raised an eyebrow at her, and chuckled.

"We had an American tourist chased off the beach only last week. They move pretty fast for big creatures." Seeing her grin, he added, "The sea lions. I couldn't comment on the gentleman."

The walk down to the beach tested Claire's balance, and she tried not to think about how hard it was going to be to walk back up. Her muscles were already sore from the climb up Baldwin Street.

All this tour bus travelling is making me soft.

Suddenly a roar cut through the silence and Claire felt goosebumps rise on her arms beneath her jacket.

"Sounds like some of the young males are getting boisterous." The driver's voice came up the hill to Claire. "Should be good viewing."

As they reached the beach Claire understood what he meant. Out in the middle of the sand, three or four giant beasts roared at each other, heads swaying, mouths wide. Claire shivered and turned her attention to the driver, determined to walk exactly where he did across the sand.

They made their way around behind the creatures, stopping at a hide to take some photographs. Then they were taken up to a grass covered sand dune, all of them following the guide into a wooden hut.

"It's nearly time for the penguins to come in from the sea. As the sun goes down, they'll come up the beach in groups; keeping a watch for the sea lions who might be after a tasty evening snack."

Claire hunkered down to watch, ignoring the quiet chatter of the couples behind her. It was a magical place. She'd never seen such animals in the wild before. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd been to a zoo.

Watching the little penguins run in from the sea and make their way up the grassy hillside, Claire was conscious of a deep warmth within her chest. All the years she'd spent inside an office, surrounded by glass and steel, wires and technology, made no sense to her anymore. Here, shivering in a hut on a hillside, watching yellow eyed penguins scurry and scamper for their homes up impossibly steep terrain, seemed more real than anything in her own life.

She had no idea what the future held, but she was certain it wasn't going to be in a concrete cage.

***

TWENTY-TWO

"Aren't you going on the Speights tour? You're on the bus, right?"

Claire looked up at the woman who had spoken and recognised her as the person who had checked her in earlier, although she hadn't noticed then that she spoke with an English accent. Now it felt like a raft in a choppy sea.

"No, I'm not really a beer person. Besides, I've had my fill of touristy things."

"You went on the wildlife tour today, though? That's a tourist attraction." She smiled and Claire swallowed her defensive response.

"I suppose so. But it's real. Oh, I can't really explain it, but at least the animals are native to this country and in their natural habitat. Not like Puzzling World or the luge or any of the dozen other ways I've been convinced to spend my money this trip."

The woman leant against the wall and dried her hands on the tea towel she was holding. Claire realised she must have been washing up in the small hostel kitchen, and wondered if she'd left any pots out unwashed. She hadn't really thought about the people that ran the hostels before.

"I think some of those things are the real New Zealand too, you know." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Kiwis love doing anything that makes the pulse race. Jumping in the sea in the middle of winter, or throwing themselves off bridges. They're a hardy bunch and they like to prove it."

Claire thought about her words, and her tone of voice: she sounded like an indulgent parent talking about the antics of her adorable but naughty children. "You live here now, then? Or are you travelling through?"

The girl smiled, and her face softened. "I live here now. I married a Kiwi last year. We met on the bus, though, so I've seen both sides of the country."

Claire opened her mouth to ask if her husband was a driver, remembering the lewd phrase Mitch had taught her, and that she'd thrown at Neal. Something of her thoughts must have shown in her expression, because the woman laughed.

"Yes, I was a DAF. Don't judge me for that! I did several circuits with him, before getting a job in Nelson and seeing him only when he travelled through. It's not as glamorous as it sounds. Or as sordid. He works here now: he took you on your tour today."

Claire thought back to the man who had shown her the sea lions and penguins that afternoon. She couldn't imagine him with this gentle woman.

I guess it takes all sorts.

After a moment of silence, the girl pushed herself away from the wall. "So, what are you doing this evening? There are some great bars in Dunedin, if you head down to the Octagon. You're welcome to come with us, we're going out for a glass or two after work."

Claire raised her eyebrows, and considered the offer. "Wouldn't I be intruding?"

"No, of course not. Half the people who come with us are Europeans, working in the town or passing through. You'll be fine. Come and see the real New Zealand if you like."

Claire looked around at the gathered group of people in the small, dark bar. The woman from reception, whose name was Sally, was chatting to a group of girls of various ages and nationalities. Laughter echoed from the group, although Claire could tell at least two of the group didn't speak good English.

In some ways it was no different to her nights with the rest of the tour group, although the average age was much higher and the amount of alcohol consumed significantly less.

Cupping her hands around the small glass of beer that had been poured from the jug in the middle of the table, Claire was content to sit and let the conversation wash over her. Even though she didn't know anyone present, there was a real sense of camaraderie that Claire hadn't felt for some time, if ever. For the first time in weeks she could understand why people chose to emigrate half way round the world to live in this place.

***

TWENTY-THREE

Darkness pressed around Claire when she woke and she could hear the soft breathing of the other occupants of the dorm. The fresh air and exercise of the day before had resulted in heavy sleep for all of them.

Far more effective than drinking games until 2 a.m. No snoring either: bliss.

Feeling wide awake for the first time in ages, Claire crept out of bed and pulled on her jeans, careful not to spill coins all over the floor as so many people did when trying to dress quietly. She couldn't see anything through the curtains, but she guessed it was before dawn.

Padding through the silent hostel, Claire felt like the only person alive in the whole world. She wandered through the lounge, smiling at the memory of the sheep who had called in for coffee the night before. She let herself out the back door and stopped to pull on her boots, then stood and stretched, inhaling the cold morning air. Her exhaled breath created a patch of white mist, and Claire contemplated going back for her jacket. Unwilling to risk waking anyone, she pulled her cardigan tighter and stepped out into the morning.

In the distance, a pale line of blue splashed across the horizon: a streak of colour against the dark sky. As she moved away from the hostel, her ears filled with the sound of birds echoing from the forest beneath her in the valley. She walked a short way towards the trees, until the sound wrapped around her and smothered all other thought.

Light seeped into the sky almost imperceptibly; more blue, then pink and yellow, like a rainbow dispersed in swirling water. Claire's nose tingled with the cold and her cheeks burned, but she only heard the rising crescendo of song and saw the spreading canvas of colour.

In the background, another noise trickled in around the dawn chorus. It took a while for Claire to identify it as the hush hush of waves caressing the shore, out of sight behind the forest.

Unwilling to move and break the magic, Claire stood for what seemed like hours. Her legs stiffened and her skin ached with cold. Gradually, glints of gold appeared between the trees, as the sun pushed its way above the horizon. As Claire watched, a ray of light pierced the forest and shone out like a beacon. The day had arrived. She continued to watch as the sun rose higher, feeling like a pagan worshiper at midsummer, although it was nearly winter here.

At last, human sounds joined the melee as the hostel came to life behind her. As if it released her from the spell, Claire moved and stretched her arms. A wide grin spread across her face, and she felt she could skip back to the building for her breakfast. Here, at the bottom of the world, she had found peace.

"Morning. You were up early."

Claire smiled at the blonde Aussie, recognising him as a fellow passenger on the bottom bus. She returned the greeting, as she pulled out her box of food and poured a bowl of cereal.

"Yes, it was beautiful out. I went to watch the sunrise."

"You don't strike me as the communing with nature type: I thought you were a city chick?"

Claire looked at the man in surprise. "What makes you say that?"

"Dunno, really. You look too–" He flushed, and his embarrassment surprised her. "–Too polished, I guess. Like your hair and clothes and stuff are smart."

He dropped his head to his toast and missed Claire's look of confusion. The guy had noticed a lot of things about her, considering they'd only been travelling together for a day.

She sat at the table opposite him and thoughtfully chewed at her food. "So, if I'm wearing nice clothes and I brush my hair, I must be a city chick, as you call it?"

The man said nothing, and Claire took pity on him. "I'm not offended, just surprised. I've barely worn a scrap of make up this whole trip and my clothes haven't seen a washing machine for weeks. I thought I looked like a tramp."

"Nah, that's not possible," the man blurted out, before resuming his red-faced silence.

Claire smiled, prepared to accept the compliment. As they continued to eat without speaking, she contemplated the man's words. What made a city chick or a country girl? And which one was she now? Six months ago she would have said city girl, unable to live more than a mile from a Starbucks. Now she wasn't so sure.

Either way, I don't have a home to go to, in the country or the city. I don't even have a car, unless Carl accepted my offer, which I seriously doubt. I've only got Conor's word that there is a job waiting for me.

Sitting at a scrubbed pine table in the middle of nowhere, with a tongue-tied bloke and a flock of sheep for company, Claire wondered why exactly she was rushing home at all.

***

**TWENTY-FOUR**

Claire's memories of the south, she decided, would be memories of silence. The Catlins, Invercargill and now Milford Sound, seemed to give off an air of quiet confidence, as if there was no need to speak.

Despite the early start, Claire felt wide awake for the long journey to the fjords. The bus stopped again and again and each time the scenery became more impressive. Huge mountains towered above them, or glittered in reflection. Overhead, the skies shone blue and Claire thanked the weather gods for their parting gift. She decided she didn't mind if it rained for the whole British summer when she got back home, in return for seeing the mountains all the way to the top.

And at least it didn't look like they would get stuck the wrong side of the Homer tunnel because of snow. The tunnel had only just reopened after a rock fall, and she'd read it was possible to be snowed in for days, or weeks, if the weather turned, for those not fortunate enough to be able to fly back to Queenstown.

Please God don't let that be my choice: I can't afford to fly, but I can't afford to miss my flight out of Christchurch either. It already cost a fortune to change it from Auckland.

Claire pushed her money worries aside and concentrated on absorbing the ethereal beauty outside the window. The bus slowed, and Claire saw a sign for the tunnel up ahead. Her stomach tightened at the thought of being stuck in the long snaking seven hundred and fifty metres of concrete. Soon it was their turn to go through. Claire rested her head against the seat and closed her eyes.

The darkness gave way to light and the tunnel disgorged them into the sun. Claire looked at the towering mountain walls as they drove away, and prayed she would be driving back through at sunset.

Claire sank back against the seat and craned her neck to see the top of the peaks surrounding her. By the time they reached Milford the sun had disappeared, leaving heavy clouds lurking above them. She guessed they wouldn't see any seals or dolphins swimming alongside the boat today.

The view was still beautiful, as the peaks wore their fog shawls like a huddle of old women. It was disappointing not to see the Mitre Peak but Claire's sadness lasted only until they reached the first waterfall and the guide explained that recent rainfall had made the water gush down.

The boat pulled up close to the waterfall and they were able to reach out and fill glasses with the ice cold water. It tasted pure and refreshing. Claire tugged her waterproof around her face and let the spray of the waterfall cover her.

At the next waterfall, the boat drove right underneath the cascade. Claire thought about retreating inside, with the majority of the passengers. Something made her stay put, as the water poured over her and drenched her despite her raincoat.

Laughter bubbled up deep inside her as she stood with water dripping down her neck and running off her hair. Turning, Claire saw the bemused looks of the dry passengers and gave a little wave. A beaming child waved back, enjoying her mirth.

The boat pulled away from the waterfall, but the water continued to fall as the heavens opened. Claire watched the droplets hitting the flat sound, reducing the visibility even further until she could barely see the end of the boat. The world turned into a monochrome photograph: the slate grey water, the charcoal grey cliffs visible for only a short distance before everything else swirled into foggy white.

Shivering uncontrollably, Claire admitted defeat and went back inside the cabin, glad that she had her rucksack with her. There was something to be said for travelling light and not having a car to leave all her belongings in. Her hands trembled as she fumbled with the drawstring and eventually managed to retrieve some dry clothing.

An announcement came over the tannoy as Claire headed for the toilets to get changed.

"As you have probably noticed, it is starting to rain. The weather is as extreme as the landscape down here in the fjords, and the area can see up to 50cm of rain in just a few hours. The boat will return to Milford now, and you can continue your tour at the observatory. We apologise for any disappointment."

With a shrug, Claire continued on her way to get dry. The rain hammered relentlessly on the cabin roof.

"What do you mean we're stuck?" Claire glared at the driver and tried to ignore the fear gnawing at her innards. "I have to get to Queenstown: my flight leaves Christchurch in a couple of days."

She felt the tears welling behind her eyes, and stopped to brush them away. Swallowing the painful lump in her throat, Claire turned away from the driver and listened as he talked quietly to the other passengers.

"Sorry, guys. The heavy rainfall has loosened some rocks near the tunnel. They won't let us through in the dark. You will be given accommodation for tonight and we will assess the situation tomorrow."

Claire heard a few groans, but mostly the passengers took the news calmly. If you were travelling for a whole year, what difference did an extra night make? It was all part of the adventure. Trying to find a similar fortitude, Claire followed the group to the bus and prayed for the rain to stop.

***

TWENTY-FIVE

Claire stared out the window at the rain and chewed the inside of her cheek. It sounded like there was a celebration going on behind her, as the stranded passengers made the most of their enforced stopover. Claire had never felt less like partying. A quick investigation had revealed the cost of flying to Queenstown to be almost as much as her flight back to the UK. Without venturing online to check her finances, she knew there wasn't space on her credit card to pay for it, leaving no choice but to wait it out.

"This is ridiculous." She pushed herself away from the window and went in search of the hostel owner. Forcing a calmness she didn't feel, she tried to frame her question in a non-confrontational way. It wasn't the manager's fault that she was stuck.

She tracked the man down at reception, where he sat making phone calls. Claire leant against the wall and kicked her foot, idly listening to his conversation as she waited to speak to him.

"I'm calling about your booking tomorrow. Unfortunately, the Homer Tunnel is currently closed.... Risk of rock fall this end I'm afraid, due to the heavy rain.... No, I can't say when it will open again. The best thing is to check the website for updates.... Yes, I'm sorry too, thank you."

Claire's limbs felt heavy as she walked over to the desk. There didn't seem much point to her question, but she decided to ask it anyway.

"Sorry, I couldn't help overhearing your call. The tunnel isn't opening in the morning then? The driver was hopeful that it would open in the daylight."

The man behind the desk looked up at her and smiled ruefully, laughter lines appearing at the sides of his eyes. "It isn't looking hopeful, I'm afraid. We've had some problems recently with a large overhang of loose rock. There is some talk the tunnel might be shut for a week or even two while they sort the problem."

"A week! My flight home leaves in two days." Claire gripped the edge of the desk and fought back tears.

"I am sorry. You might be able to catch a flight to Queenstown, if the rain eases. They won't fly in this weather."

"I can't afford a flight. Unless the government will evacuate us? Yes, they have to do something, don't they? They can't leave us stranded down here for a week?" She focussed on the man's face, eager to see some agreement. He merely shook his head.

"They've never evacuated before, to my knowledge."

"Has the tunnel remained shut for a week before?" Claire demanded.

The manager shrugged. "I haven't been here all that long. It's never been shut for more than a day or two. I'm sorry. I'm trying to find out what I can, but the rain plays havoc with communications I'm afraid. You'll have to try to be patient."

Claire inhaled through her nose and bit back a retort. There were many times in her life she would have loved to be stranded in a beautiful location, with nothing to do but read and relax. Now was not one of them.

She nodded at the manager and strode back to the lounge, where a noisy game of Monopoly was taking place. Unable to stand the good humour, Claire retreated to her room.

I'm just going to have to find a few more hundred dollars from somewhere and worry about it when I get home.

Wracking her brain for someone likely to lend her the money, Claire curled into her bunk and closed her eyes.

***

TWENTY-SIX

Claire stared at the underside of the top bunk and searched her brain for ideas. This was harder than the worst pitch Carl had ever thrown her way. Harder than choosing an apartment or selecting which shoes to wear for Kim's wedding. How to raise several hundred dollars in a few hours, so she could fly to Queenstown and catch the bus to Christchurch to get her flight home?

The list of people who might lend her the money was less than one. Those with the resources – Michael, Josh, her brother, her parents – were not the ones she wanted to approach in an emergency. The people who might take pity on her – her sister Ruth was the only one who came to mind – couldn't afford it. Even if her best friend Kim was still speaking to her, their financial relationship existed on the fact that Claire was the one with a well-paid job and Kim, as the newbie actress, didn't have two pennies to rub together.

How ironic that it's me who is stranded in the back of beyond without the resources to get home, even though – assuming I do get back – I will have a salary coming in soon enough to clear the debt.

A tiny thought that Conor might advance her first month's salary was quickly quashed. Not only had he already put his neck out for her by making the job a short-term contract, she didn't want to start out beholden to her boss.

Come on Claire, think. There must be a way of raising some cash. An online loan, a new credit card.

The ideas came only to be dismissed. Even if she could get the internet to work, such things took time. And she wasn't entirely convinced she'd pass a credit score anyway, with no home address or job and her credit card full to the max.

A dark lassitude crept over her and she had to push away the tears. Escaping to New Zealand had seemed the only option at the time: a chance to flee the mess her life had become and enjoy a fresh start. Instead had never felt so alone.

Through the black, a glimmer of light sparkled. Something someone had said to her in passing, a joke to be laughed off, crept into her mind. Something Bethan had said. What was it? Claire searched through her brain, wishing Bethan were there to come up with an amazing solution or fill the room with her endless optimism. Then it came to her. "Sell your fancy boots if you have to."

I'm going home, hopefully, so what does it matter if I sell some stuff. I have boxes of clothes back home.

The thought made her uncomfortable, nonetheless. Could she sell of her second hand stuff to the other people in the hostel? Would they buy it? It seemed a bit icky. But what choice did she have?

Running through her possessions in her mind, Claire realised the thing of most value was her tablet. Selling it felt like cutting off her right arm, especially as it was full of data she wouldn't be able to back up without access to a computer. Was it worth losing all her photos, her memories of the trip across New Zealand, to get home?

With a heavy sigh, Claire rolled off the bed and pulled her rucksack over. Searching through, she found the iPad and charger, some jewellery and her Helly Hansen boots. Ignoring the trembling in her hands, Claire gathered them together and left the room.

***

TWENTY-SEVEN

Claire peered through the battered window and tried to enjoy the view, but her heart sat like a lead block wedged in her chest. Low cloud still swirled around the pointed peaks of the fjords, but at least the rain had stopped. The pilot assured her the flight would be without incident. Claire decided she wouldn't count on anything until she was on the ground.

The rucksack at her feet took up the same space it had done the day before, but in her mind it was smaller: diminished by the loss of her Helly Hansen boots and the tablet that had kept her company through months of solitude. In the new simplified world of travelling, when everything else had been stripped away – her car, her apartment, her friends – the impersonal black rectangle had come to represent home. Her contact with the world, her reading material, her music, her photos, her memories: all stored in the small device.

With a harsh laugh, Claire remembered a fantasy novel she'd read as a teenager, where the solution to the survival of a community of people was hidden inside blank black cubes.

Who knew that fantasy would meet reality so soon?

With a shrug, she tried to convince herself it was just a possession; no different to having her phone stolen when she was mugged.

Except everything was backed up to the cloud, then.

Pushing the dark thoughts aside, Claire gazed out at the view that had cost her so much. She searched for a sense of excitement at the thought of going home. Some feeling of returning older, wiser, with a pocketful of experiences. Instead, the future yawned ahead like the long snaking tunnel whose closure had forced her to hock her favourite possessions.

Oh, pull yourself together, Claire, for heaven's sake. Enough maudlin crap. This is life, get on with it.

Sitting straighter in her seat, Claire focussed on what needed to be done, in order of time and priority. Finding the bus to Christchurch, or booking on another one if the tour bus had left already. Checking in for her flight. Getting home, getting to Dorset, finding a new car.

Beneath the mire, a flicker of joy bubbled at the thought of seeing Conor in a few days. His quirky texts had kept her smiling through the last few weeks, and she hoped that would continue even when he was her boss.

The hulking elephant in the room of her mind was Kim. Just thinking about seeing her again made Claire's mouth dry. Her head throbbed with the thought of how to mend their broken friendship. Her countless emails had received no response, not even from Jeff.

I screwed up, I have to fix it. But how? I can't give her another baby. I can't unsay the words.

A thought Claire hadn't admitted to herself before reared up. She tried to ignore it but it tugged at her sleeve.

And is it really my fault? Michael shouted it out for everyone to hear, not me. Kim never told me to keep it a secret. I'm all for taking responsibility for my actions, but where do you stop?

Claire ran her hands through her hair. She was tired of feeling low; tired of the world smothering her in blackness. She wanted to laugh, to get through a day without analysing her every thought and action. To feel alive again.

Do I really need possessions to make me happy? I don't remember ever being this miserable when I worked for Carl, despite him being a tosser and life having no meaning. Suddenly now I know I want more from life and I feel like crawling into a cave and never coming out. What's that all about?

Tears trickled down Claire's cheeks, but she ignored them. Maybe if she didn't give the black thoughts any attention, they'd go away.

Beneath her, the monochrome landscape continued on unending.

***

TWENTY-EIGHT

Claire read the text message again and frowned, the movement exacerbating the headache she'd had all afternoon. Glancing up at the window, she saw only the reflection of the empty dorm room. At 8 o'clock in the evening in Queenstown, it seemed everyone was out partying.

I should be on a bus to Christchurch. My flight leaves in 24 hours.

She'd tried to get a bus to the airport as soon as the tiny plane carrying her from Milford landed, but it turned out all the buses left early in the morning. With no choice but to wait in the hostel, and with no iPad or money, Claire felt like she might burst.

And then the text from Kim had arrived. Claire read it for a third time, but it still made no sense.

Sorry, Claire. I've been a bad friend. But it won't matter anymore. Have a nice life. Kim.

Every time she read the words, Claire felt the knot tighten in her stomach. If it hadn't been from Kim, she would have worried that it was a goodbye note from someone intending to do something foolish. But Kim was the most resilient person she knew.

The nagging worry continued to worm under her skin. At last Claire had to do something or go mad.

Hi Kim, lovely to hear from you. If anyone's been a bad friend it's me. I'll be home in two days, please say we can catch up and be friends? I've missed you so much. Claire.

Claire watched the phone, waiting for a response. As the minutes ticked by, the tightness in her chest became unbearable.

"Damn it!"

Grabbing the phone, Claire strode from the room and down to reception.

"Hi, I need to call the UK, do you sell phone cards?" Claire looked at the girl behind reception sat reading a magazine. She turned her head slowly and gazed at Claire without speaking.

"Do you sell phone cards, please? I need to call England."

The girl nodded, and reached into a box under the desk.

"Five bucks will give you twenty minutes to the UK, is that enough?"

Claire nodded. It would have to be; she needed to save every last bit of money to get to the airport and buy something to eat on the way home.

Tapping her foot, as the girl wrote something down in a book before handing over the card, Claire snatched it and span round to locate the phone. She spotted it in the corner, but it was in use. Judging by the body language of the girl curled around the handset it was likely to be in use for some time.

Claire froze. She was loathe to ask the girl on reception anything, suspecting any answer would take too long. Her mind felt blank with indecision. Looking left and right, as if a phone might materialise on the blank walls, Claire was about to run out into the street when she heard the phone click.

Hand outstretched, Claire reached the handset just as a teenage boy was about to pick it up.

"Please, this is urgent. I think my friend's in trouble. I need to make this call?" She turned pleading eyes on the boy and he shrugged and wandered back into the lounge.

The instructions on the back of the phone card seemed impossibly complicated. Claire scratched off the silver paint to reveal the code, then typed in the long string of numbers and waited.

After a long pause, the phone began to ring. Each note of the ringing tone made her heart beat faster. The phone felt slippery in her clammy hand and she twisted the cord round and round.

"Answer, Kim. Come on. You only sent that text half an hour ago. Answer, Goddamnit."

Ten rings, twenty, then the phone went dead. A metallic voice came on the line.

"You have four dollars twenty cents remaining. Do you wish to make another call?"

Scrolling through her phone book with numb fingers, Claire found Jeff's number and dialled it in. Again the phone rang, five times, ten. Claire was wondering who she would call next when she heard a click.

"Yes?"

"Jeff? It's Claire."

"Claire. Cricky, how are you? I thought you were in New Zealand."

"I am. Listen, is Kim with you?"

"No. She said she needed a night by herself, so I'm staying with mates. Why?" His voice rose slightly. "Have you guys spoken at last?"

"No. She sent me a text. Look it might be nothing, but it sounded like she was saying goodbye. You don't think she'd do something stupid, do you? It's not like her, but I've tried ringing and she's not answering."

"Fuck." Jeff's voice came out like a bullet. Then Claire could hear movement and panting, as if Jeff was running.

"How long ago did you get the text?" His voice sounded distant.

"Half an hour. Jeff, you're scaring me. Why would Kim kill herself?" Claire fought the wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm her. She leant against the wall and held the phone with both hands.

"She's had depression, since the miscarriage. Oh Claire, it's been awful. I wish you guys hadn't fallen out. She's on medication but I'm not sure she's been taking it. Look I have to go. Thanks for calling me."

"Wait. Jeff. I'm sorry. Tell her I'm sorry." The phone was silent, and Claire wondered if Jeff had gone, or if he thought she was too much to blame.

"It's not your fault, Claire. We'll sort it out when you get home. If I'm not too late."

The phone went dead.

***

TWENTY-NINE

Claire stared into the darkness, aware that her alarm would drag her from sleep in only a few hours. The need to rest pulled at her but her eyes wouldn't close. The phone on the pillow next to her face remained stubbornly still. She willed it to shine with good news. Or any news. The wait stretched her nerves until she felt she might snap.

Around her, gentle breathing indicated the other sleepers in the room. Claire envied them their peace. The last person had stumbled in an hour before, bumping and bashing the bunks before crawling under the covers and starting to snore. For the first time, Claire found the sound soothing. Normal.

Her heart thudded out time in her chest and she tried to imagine what might be happening around the other side of the world, where the sun was probably high in the sky.

Why hasn't he sent me a message? Surely he knows something by now.

The thought that he'd arrived too late, and was too distraught to contact her, ran over and over like a stuck record. Claire fought the repetition with words of her own.

She's not dead. She's not dead.

At last the phone flashed bright light into the darkness. The hammering in Claire's chest increased in tempo, booming into the silence. Her hands shook as she reached for the phone and it took a while for her eyes to focus.

We're in the hospital. She'd taken all her meds, but the docs have sorted it. Hoping she'll be fine. Thank you, you saved her life. Come see her when you land, I think she needs you. J

Claire slumped back against the pillows and let the adrenalin flow from her limbs into the lumpy mattress. Relief, guilt, exhaustion, swirled around like smoke. With shallow breaths, Claire allowed the news to sink in.

She's going to be okay. She has to be.

The alarm tore through Claire's troubled dreams. Vivid images of chasing across an endless field after a fleeting shadow danced infront of her eyes, even as she blinked to ground herself in the present. There was no time to think. The coach was leaving early and she had to be on it.

It should have been an amazing day; the perfect finish to her journey around New Zealand. The coach took them through a pass in the mountains and down into Twizel. Around them the alps stretched magnificent to a clear blue sky, the snow-capped peaks dazzling with their brightness.

Claire felt encased in lead. The beauty couldn't touch her. Her body still trembled with spent emotion and she had to resist the urge to text Jeff every five minutes for an update. It was night time back home: if he was asleep he deserved the rest.

They arrived at Lake Tekapo and Claire looked across at Mt Cook in the distance. The iconic image of New Zealand was as remote as if she were viewing it from home. The tranquillity clashed with Claire's urgency to be moving. The coach was too slow, the passengers too relaxed – spending just another five minutes soaking in the view, just another five minutes finishing their lunch, taking one last photograph.

Come on, come on! I've got a plane to catch.

Wishing she'd found the extra money to take an Intercity coach, Claire made sure she was always first on the bus, hoping her punctuality would ensure their timely departure.

They drove into Christchurch after the sun had set. Claire couldn't bring herself to check the time. She already knew she was cutting it dangerously close, getting to the airport in time for check in.

Staring at Christchurch out the window, part of Claire's brain regretted not having time to explore the garden city. From what she could see, it was very like Cambridge, with the canals and the punts, all tied up waiting for the morning.

With any luck I'll be in the real Cambridge the day after tomorrow. That's what's important.

Claire wrapped her hand around the strap of her rucksack, already on the seat next to her ready for her to dash from the coach as soon as it stopped. The coach seemed to be barely moving, stuck in the city traffic.

The knots tightened in Claire's stomach as she tried not to contemplate what horrors awaited her if she missed her flight.

***

THIRTY

Claire jumped down from the coach and waved vaguely in the driver's direction. She'd already checked which bus would take her to the airport and the driver had pointed out the stop.

If only the tour still stopped in Christchurch overnight, I could have booked a taxi to pick me up from the hostel. Bloody earthquake.

Standing at the stop, Claire tried to remember the last time she'd caught a bus. Back in Manchester she'd stuck to the trams, if public transport had featured at all. Mostly she used her car.

Please let NZ buses run punctually.

Claire chewed the side of her nail and stared along the road, willing the bus to appear amidst the traffic. She was surprised how many cars there were on the street on a Saturday evening.

I wonder if the Kiwis come into town for a night out. I wish I was heading to a bar for a double gin and tonic. Hopefully there'll be enough money to buy one on the plane, assuming I get there.

Claire could almost taste the cool refreshing tang of tonic with a slice of lime, and she took a swig of water to wet her throat. Her tummy rumbled but she didn't dare leave the stop to look for food. Plenty of time to worry about eating when her luggage was checked in and she had her boarding pass.

At last the bus appeared down the street. It seemed to take forever to reach her in the traffic. Claire jumped on almost before the doors were open.

"Airport, please."

The driver nodded and named the fare.

"How long will it take?"

"Half an hour, assuming we don't hit traffic. Don't worry, chook, we'll get you there for your flight."

Claire took a seat, wondering how much panic was visible on her face to get a pep-talk from a complete stranger.

Outside the window, she was able to get a true sense of the devastation caused by the earthquake and began to realise the traffic was not caused by volume of people, but the need to negotiate streets still closed off by piles of rubble.

Gazing at the buildings along the central business district, Claire realised they were actually shipping containers, stacked up and painted. It made her sad to think of the once beautiful city in such a state of disrepair, however much it matched her mood.

As the bus drove along suburban streets lined with bare trees, Claire felt increasingly like she was on her way home.

It's not winter there, though. How odd to go from spring to summer to autumn and back to summer again.

She tried to imagine travelling around Cornwall in the sunshine, back in her own car and in control of her travel plans. The thought raised a flicker of happiness deep inside, but it was soon extinguished by her concern for Kim and her need to get home.

At last there were signs to the airport and Claire felt her heartbeat quicken. Before they were even close to the building she rose and walked to the front of the bus.

"Where do you drop us?"

"At the arrivals hall."

"Damn. How far to departures?"

The driver laughed. "Not far. It's not exactly Singapore. You'll be fine."

"My flight leaves in half an hour."

"Ah, you are cutting it close. No worries, we'll get you there."

Claire clung on to the nearest seat as the driver put his foot down. She wished she'd told him earlier that she was in a hurry.

I can't imagine a bus driver in the UK going faster because I'm late for my flight. He'd be more likely to berate me for my bad planning.

"Here you go. Through there, you can't miss it. I'd get a move on though. Good luck."

With a wave, Claire jumped down from the bus, shouldered her rucksack, and ran.

She found the international check in desks and looked for her flight. All the signs were blank and she felt the panic begin to rise up her throat. One desk had a woman behind it and she ran towards her, bumping the barriers with her rucksack.

"Hi," she panted, dropping her bag to the floor. "I need to check in for my flight to Sydney."

The woman behind the desk looked up and frowned. "You're too early, check in isn't open yet."

"What do you mean? My flight leaves in thirty minutes."

The frown deepened. "Sorry, Ma'am, you're too late to check in for that fight. I can put you on standby for the next flight, but it doesn't leave until the morning. You'll have to find accommodation for the night."

"What do you mean I can't check in? I've still got at least twenty minutes before the flight leaves. I can't get one in the morning, I'm connecting to Dubai."

The check-in clerk looked at Claire with a mixture of pity and frustration. "I'm sorry, Ma'am, you should have allowed more time to get to the airport. I can't get you checked in and through security in twenty minutes. The gate is already closed."

Claire stared at the perfectly made-up face, the immaculate hair, the clean and ironed clothing, and knew hatred. After everything she had been through to get here, to miss the flight because this woman wouldn't let her through was too much. She wanted to scream and rant, to barge through and run for the gate. To do something desperate.

Instead she stood, numb and defeated, and let the tears fall.

###

This story is continued on Amanda Martin's daily blog at http://writermummy.wordpress.com

Need to catch up? Find all the volumes at Smashwords

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Amanda Martin was born in Hertfordshire in 1976. After graduating with first class honours from Leeds University she wandered around the world trying to find her place in it. She tried various roles, in England and New Zealand, including Bar Manager, Marketing Manager, Consultant and Artist, before deciding that Writer/Mummy best summed her up. She lives in Northamptonshire with her husband, two children and labradoodle Kara and can mostly be found at http://writermummy.wordpress.com or on Twitter or Facebook.

Also by Amanda Martin:

BABY BLUES AND WEDDING SHOES

Amanda's latest release, the chick lit novel Baby Blues and Wedding Shoes is available now.

5 out of 5 stars "Wonderful, engaging story"

" _Wonderful, engaging story by a talented writer. Pleasantly surprising depth in a plot which one might have initially assumed would be a predictable meet-cute, boy meets girl, happily ever after. A more thought provoking story evolved than expected in the beginning. Author has a nice way with descriptive words which makes one feel nearly in the room. Readers with an appreciation for a bit of reality and a bit of hopeful romantic wishful dreaming will not be disappointed by this lovely tale. Well done."_

DRAGON WRAITHS

Dragon Wraiths, a Young Adult novel. Read the reviews:

4 out of 5 stars " **Pacey and engaging** "

" _This is a wonderful romp for the YA audience that definitely crosses over to Adult (which is me!). Amanda writes in a wonderfully emotive and poetic yet also pacey style and I was at once absorbed and engaged with the central character. I wouldn't call myself a fantasy fan by any stretch (the work Tolkien just makes me want to snooze...) yet I was completely onboard with this parallel world and I found the transition between them, and the entire storyline credible. I found a Harry Potter-esque sensibility to the author's use of intriguing devices and methods for the real and fantasy worlds combining - but this is not to say there is any pastiche going on. Thoroughly recommend the book - and am hoping there's a sequel on the cards!"_

4 out of 5 stars "Thoroughly enjoyable read"

" _Thoroughly enjoyable read. Loved how dragons and humans worked together. Very original and entertaining._  
It's a fast paced novel that any age with imagination could enjoy. I'm way out of YA age and still loved it. The ending really made me smile.  
I'd read another by this author."

