dirt poor. Cut it off now, Guinevere, if you want to be kind, otherwise you’ll simply distract him from trying. You’re going to university in Sydney and if there’s any more nonsense, we’ll send you to your aunt in London.’
The boy has no hope of making it through medicine. You’ll simply distract him from trying.
The phrases had stung but even at seventeen she had been able to see the truth in them.
Ben had wanted so much to be a doctor. He’d dreamed of it, ached for it. Since he’d been fifteen he’d worked on the docks after school, unloading fish and cleaning them for sale. It was a filthy, hard job, and every cent of what he’d earned had gone to his doctor training fund.
You’ll simply distract him from trying.
And then her father had issued another ultimatum, this one even worse.
Okay. If she couldn’t study in Auckland... If she couldn’t be with him...
She’d made a decision then and there, a Joan of Arc martyrdom, an adolescent burning for a cause. She’d renounce him and prove her parents wrong. She’d tell him not to write, to forget her, to focus purely on his career. Then, when they were both qualified doctors, she’d come again, appear out of the mist, probably wearing something white and floaty, and the orchestra would play and...and...
She found herself smiling, and everyone at the table was looking at her oddly. Even Ben.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I was just remembering how romantic it was. Our first love. I hope your heart wasn’t broken for long, Ben.’
He grinned. ‘For months,’ he said.
‘I thought you started going out with Daphne Harcourt that same summer,’ Hannah retorted. ‘Now, they were kissy kissy. And then there was that painted one you brought home from uni.’
‘And Jessica Crosby with the weird leggings and piercings,’ Becky volunteered. ‘She was hot. And now Mum thinks Abby—’
‘Enough,’ Doug said, breaking in abruptly. ‘Leave the lad alone.’
They subsided as everyone always did when Doug spoke, and why wouldn’t you subside when Ailsa’s Irish stew was in front of you? But Ginny couldn’t help thinking...thinking...
So Ben hadn’t carried a flame for her. That was good, wasn’t it? Yeah, it was, for of course at seventeen she hadn’t carried a torch for him all that long either. She’d immersed herself in university life, she’d had a couple of very nice boyfriends, and then she’d met James.
He’d been older than her, his parents had moved in her parents’ circle and he’d already been a qualified surgeon. She’d been thrilled when he’d noticed her, even more thrilled when he’d proposed.
And that same naivety that had had her dreaming of returning to Kaimotu in clouds of white mist with orchestra backing had then propelled her into a marriage that had been a disaster.
‘Ginny,’ Ben said gently, and she looked up and met his gaze. He looked concerned. Drat, he’d always been able to read her face and it was disconcerting. ‘Are you okay? Did we work you too hard?’
‘Would you like to stay here the night, with the little one?’ Ailsa asked. ‘Ben says you’ve been dropped into parenthood and it’s hard. She’s sound asleep now. She’ll be right here.’
It was so tempting. She could step back into the McMahons’ protection, she thought, as she’d stepped into it all those years ago.
Its warmth enfolded her. This family...
And then she glanced at Abby, who was looking fiercely down at her dinner plate, and she thought, What am I messing with? If there was something between these two, the kids talking of past loves must really hurt.
Joan of Arc syndrome again? Move aside, Ginny?
It wasn’t dumb, though, she thought. There were no white mists and orchestras in the background now, just hard reality that had been drummed into her ever since she’d made her wedding vows.
‘Thank you but no,’ she managed. ‘It’s a lovely offer but Button and I will be fine.’
‘I’ve put together a wee