Friday in Summer

I wasn’t sure what the consequences were of time ‘loosening her hold’, so I spent as little time as possible with Hamish getting passports, transferring money and making excuses. Janice’s parents were particularly distracted, and it was her brother who let me into her bedroom to find clothes and passport. There had been a naked man in their back yard, he said. Funny I said. He would pass on the message that Janice was at my place watching videos, he said.

By my kitchen clock, it was less than an hour later that I left Hamish and went back to the garden shed. I hoped touching the shepherd’s crook my grandfather had always kept on the back of the shed door, wasn’t smudging Coles’s fingerprints. That was the last thought I had before I arrived back in the Valley. I had expected it to be dark, but it was full daylight. I turned to see Janice sitting with her back against the cairn, looking back towards the forest. Jasper was no where to be seen. ‘Why are you here? I thought you’d be at the source with Jasper.’

‘This is my gate isn’t it? If I went through here, I would end up in my place, wouldn’t I?’

‘Yeah, sure. But we can traverse from here to the Source. It’ll be for the last time. Come on. Jasper will be waiting.’ She didn’t respond. She didn’t look at me. She sat with her back against the pile of stones, clutching some clothes.

‘You did it again, you know. You left me alone here. You just disappear and turn up again, both of you. It’s me that wants to go home.’ She glanced at me dismissively, then stood and threw my clothes at me. ‘Here, put your pants on.’

‘Thanks.’ I managed as I donned the jogging pants. I wondered if she had hoped it would be McKenzie who appeared out of the flash of light. ‘I saw Hamish. He’s ok. Not dead or anything. His father made the right choice.’ She didn’t react as I thought she would. She didn’t gush or go weepy or thank me effusively. She leaned back against the stones.

After a worrying time she said, very quietly: ‘He didn’t really have a choice, did he?’

‘Who? Hamish?’ She gave me that ‘You idiot’ look that girls master at an early age. ‘You mean Mr McKenzie?’ Silence was the answer. I couldn’t follow her thinking. She was giving very little away. ‘Look. If you want to go home, all you have to do is throw the stone in the river, then the three of us will touch the last gateway and we’ll be back home. Well, actually, not home, but I’ve arranged for Hamish to pick us up from Lake Tekapo. It’s a famous lake in the middle of the South Island of New Zealand. He’s on his way there now. I got your passport and some clothes so….’ I had her attention now.

‘Lake what?’ She wasn’t happy. ‘Are you saying that I am going to drop out of this place and end up stark naked at a major tourist attraction in the middle of New Zealand?’

I thought about my answer. ‘Once your gate is shut, the Source will be the only one open. The McKenzie gate is shut. Mine will close as soon as the stones are both returned and yours ….’

‘I’m not going to return my stone.’ Janice stood away from the rocks, straightened her shoulders and said it again. ‘It’s mine. I’m not giving it away.’

I thought she’d seen through all that stuff Mr McKenzie had said. I’d forgotten how deeply engrained the habit of ownership was. ‘It’s not yours, Janice. It was stolen from here. It was given to your family by a thief to secure his freedom, and to betray a good man. It was never yours.’ I was speaking quietly too.

‘My grandfather gave it to me. It’s the only thing that is truly mine. I have six cousins, and they are all boys. I am the only Rhodes girl, and this is what is given to the Rhodes girls.’

I was covering it quite well, but my anger was rising. ‘Do you know anything about your great-grandmother, Janice? There’s a story, you see, in my family about her. The stones can only be returned when the stone gates open onto the same land. It should have been New Zealand, but your great-something-grandmother made that impossible. Early last century, the first Jonathan Douglass heard there was a daughter born to the Rhodes family. He waited until she was about your age, then travelled back to Timaru to try to convince her to return the stone. The other stone was a cinch. Hamish’s forebears were still at Pleasant Point. They would have done anything for a dram of whisky, the story goes. Return the stone. Steal some sheep. Whatever. But your family was different. They were the local gentry. The first Janice Rhodes …’

I had her attention, even though she was still looking off into the distance. She interrupted. ‘The second. She was named after her grandmother.’

‘That Janice Rhodes was really appreciative of the attentions of the handsome young Australian farmer, but she chose not to give the stone back. The first Jonathan Douglass tried everything he could, but the second Janice Rhodes flirted and teased and wouldn’t even visit the Valley because she thought he was trying to get into her pants or whatever the Victorian era equivalent was. She was ..’ I cast around for the right word ‘… ditzy. I didn’t think you were the same.’

Now she turned to face me. ‘Ditzy? You think I’m being ditzy?’ She pushed me backwards with two hands on my chest. She was really angry. I held my ground as she placed her palms on my chest and pushed me again. ‘If I’m ditzy, then what are you? How many generations of Jonathan Douglasses has it taken to produce an air-head like you? You just sit back and watch what’s going on. You stand outside while the action, the real action is going on. If I’m a ditz then you are the absolute spectator. You and your family, you don’t do stuff. You just wait around until it’s too late to change anything and then you come in and throw accusations around. Telling people to give away their stuff and stealing their dogs and … and …’

I had just discovered my father was neither alive nor dead, that he would remain that way until she gave back the stone she wore around her neck. Any accusations of detachment were a red flag to a bull. This is my excuse for what happened next.

I kissed her.

It was not a great kiss as kisses go, but it did have the element of surprise. She could have pushed me away, I reassured myself when she didn’t. So I was half expecting a slap when I finally let her go.

I didn’t get one. She just looked surprised, and then laughed. It was a ragged pathetic attempt at a carefree laugh, but it wasn’t a smack in the face.

‘What does that prove?’ she asked.

She didn’t look angry and I didn’t feel like hitting her anymore. It was a pretty successful red herring, I thought, but had the wisdom not to say so. ‘I thought it would be a good idea.’ I said shamefacedly. ‘I just wanted to.’ I added more honestly.

‘Not detached then?’ she said.

‘No.’ I answered. Then after a pause I asked her: ‘Can I tell you about my dad, please?’