Page 25 of Seduction Under the Southern Stars

I take off my shoes as she locks the front door and puts the chain across, and then she says, “Come in. Hallie and Zoe will be out in a minute.”

I hold the wine and chocolate up, and her eyes light up as she sees they’re After Eight Mints. “Oh my God, Linc! My favorite!”

“I took a chance,” I say, because she used to love them when she was a girl. “Do you still leave the paper wrappers in the box?”

“All the time,” she says with a laugh, taking them over and placing them on the breakfast bar.

I follow her into the living room, then stand and stare in surprise. “Holy shit.”

She glanced around. “What?”

“I didn’t realize the Wellington Library had been burgled.”

“Ha ha. I happen to like books.”

“I’d never have guessed.” There are books and magazines everywhere. Like, absolutely everywhere—all neatly stacked in piles—around the sofa and chairs, in front of the windows, by the breakfast bar, and jammed in the two big bookcases. I’ve never seen so many books in one place, bar the British Library.

I pick one up: The Human Bone Manual.

“That’s a goodie,” she says.

“I know—I happen to own this one.”

“What about this?” She passes me Anatomical Oddities.

“No, haven’t read that.”

“It’s terrific. You can find out all about your arachnoid mater.”

“In that case I’ll definitely have to read it.”

She laughs. “It is very good.”

“And what’s this?” I go over to the table by the window. A big box sits in one corner, and the surface of the table is covered with tiny bones, as well as small brushes and pots of water. I pick up a notebook and flick through it. It’s full of drawings and neat handwriting of the cleaned and identified bones.

“You found a snipe?” I ask, gesturing at the drawing.

“Yes!” She looks delighted at the question. “It’s here.” She opens a couple of boxes, then extracts the skull of a bird with an incredibly long beak. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I bet it could scratch its foot without bending down.”

“I know, the beak is amazing. The species was probably extirpated by Pacific rats introduced by Maori. Or possibly feral cats. Hard to say.”

I put the skull down and smile at her. “Some things don’t change.”

She grins, leading the way out to the kitchen. “Dad’s still got the boxes of finds we used to bring back from the forest.”

Atticus Bell is a big believer in the healing power of the Great Outdoors. He called the ‘treatment’—for want of a better name—that he carried out at Greenfield with disaffected youths ‘adventure therapy’, which basically involved him and other adults taking groups of kids out into the mountains. It was done under the pretext of teaching us survival skills and keeping us fit, although now, as an adult, I can see it was also about team building, and encouraging us to talk around the campfires late into the evening. Joel and Fraser often came with us on these trips, and even Elora occasionally, usually when her mother, Clemmie, was one of the adults taking part.

Elora would spend most of her time finding animal bones, rocks, crystals, and unusual plants in the forest, and she inevitably returned with pockets full of finds that she would then spend hours identifying and drawing.

She goes over to the slow cooker, takes off the lid, and gives what’s inside a stir. “It’s all ready,” she says, “as soon as the boys turn up.”

On cue, there’s a knock at the door, and she walks across, peers through the peephole, then takes off the chain, unlocks it, and opens it. “Late, as usual,” she says as both Joel and Fraser walk in.

“It’s one minute to seven,” Joel states indignantly.

“An archaeologist is never late, nor is he early,” Fraser replies.

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