Page 142 of Seduction Under the Southern Stars

Waving to them all, we make our way down the gangplank, where we find a Maori guy waiting with a board bearing our names.

“Oh,” Elora says when she sees him. “Who’s this?”

I smile as we walk up and hold out my hand. “I’m Linc Green and this is Elora.”

“Welcome to Milford Sound,” he says. “I’m Etana Williams. I’m here to take you to the Riverside.”

“The Riverside?” Elora queries.

“It’s a series of chalets overlooking the fiord,” I reply. “We’re staying there tonight. Nice to meet you, Etana. Hey, before we head over there, I was wondering whether we could make a pitstop?”

“Of course.”

I give him the address of Maureen Lyttle, hoping it’s not like Brigadoon and the place only appears once every hundred years.

But he says, “Yep, I know where that is,” and then he takes our cases over to a Range Rover and puts them in the back, and the two of us climb into the passenger seats.

Elora’s eyes are wide, and she’s breathing fast as we set off. I lift her hand and kiss her fingertips, understanding her nerves. I know how much the ring would mean to her and her family, especially her mother, of course.

“Do you live here?” Elora asks Etana.

He nods. “I work at Riverside—I’m the porter and the chauffeur, and I do lots of other odd jobs.”

“So you know the town pretty well?”

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

She chews her bottom lip. “Do you know Maureen Lyttle?”

“Yeah, of course. She works for Milford Sound Tourism. Is that who you’re going to see?”

“We were hoping to.”

He indicates and turns off the main road, following the Cleddau River. “I’m sure she’ll be there. If not, she won’t have gone far.”

He drives slowly down a long, winding road peppered with small houses. It can’t really be called a town; it’s more of a village, as I haven’t seen any shops or supermarkets, and I believe there’s only one small café in the information center. I know that everyone who lives here works for either the local cruise operators, the Riverside, Milford Sound Tourism, or one of the fishing boats, and they live in houses that their employers supply.

After living in the UK, with a population of nearly sixty-seven million, and being so near to the hustle and bustle of the rest of Europe, traveling the eleven thousand miles or eighteen thousand kilometers to New Zealand with its population of just over five million already feels as if I’ve come to the ends of the Earth. But Milford Sound with its population of less than two hundred feels as if we really have descended to the bottom of the world.

Could I live somewhere like this, so far removed from a large city? The village now has mobile phone coverage and internet access, but even so, it feels distinctly off the grid. Great for a night or two, but I’m not sure I’d like to live here permanently.

Etana slows, then turns onto a smaller drive, finally coming to a stop in front of one of the small cottages. “Here you go,” he says, turns off the engine, and pulls out his phone. “Take as long as you need.”

I smile at Elora. “Come on.”

We get out of the car and walk toward the house. As we approach, the door opens to reveal a woman who’s probably in her sixties with gray hair. Silently, I apologize to her for saying she was probably over seventy.

She looks at us both, smiles, and says, “You must be Linc and Elora.”

Elora stops dead and stares at her. “Sorry, what?”

“Come in,” Maureen says, and she steps back, indicating for us to pass her.

I give Elora a mischievous smile, take her hand, and lead her inside.

We go into the small cottage and walk through to the living room. It’s basic but cozy: a sofa and chairs covered with colorful throws, a small dining table and chairs by the window, and shelves filled with knitted animals, everything from dogs and cats to zebras and camels. “My hobby,” she says when she sees us looking at them. “I send most of them to the children’s ward in Queenstown Hospital.”

“They’re lovely,” I say, because Elora doesn’t seem capable of speech.

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