Page 32 of Seduction Under the Southern Stars

“You want to talk about it?” Joel asks.

“You don’t have to, if you’d rather not in front of us,” Zoe says quickly.

I shrug. “It’s not a secret. My father—who turned out not to be my father, Don Green—used to beat me regularly. When he put me in hospital, Social Services finally intervened, and that’s when I went to Greenfield.”

Zoe and Hallie look appropriately horrified. Elora frowns, maybe remembering that day we first met outside Atticus’s office, when my face still bore the scars of that beating.

“Mum apparently had an affair early on in their marriage. Don found out and beat the guy up, and she never saw him again.” It feels weird calling him Don, but I’m never going to call that man my father again.

“Fuck,” Joel says.

“Yeah.”

“Did she say who the guy was?”

I nod. “She said his name was Edmund Mansfield. I Googled him today—the White Pages lists three men with that name. One in Warkworth, one in Auckland, and one in Queenstown.”

“Did she say where she met him?”

“No, but it could have been Queenstown, because she lived there with Don before they had me and moved to Christchurch.”

“Are you going to try and contact him?” Fraser asks.

I hesitate. “I think so. I have to, right? I don’t know how he’s going to react, though. I mean, how would you feel thirty years down the line if a guy rang to say he was your son by a woman whose husband beat you up at the time? He might not even believe me.”

“If he’s anything like you, he’ll be a damn sight nicer than Don Green was,” Fraser says. It’s such a nice compliment, and it shocks me that he might be right. I’m assuming the worst—that Edmund will tell me to fuck off and deny knowing my mother. But what if he turns out to be a good guy? Says it’s great he has a son, and wants to get to know me? The thought takes my breath away.

But then I force my brain to stop galloping ahead. It’s much more likely that the guy—if I find him—will be cautious or annoyed. Maybe when he had an affair with my mother he was also married, and he won’t want his current partner to know about it now. Fuck knows I’ve had enough disappointment in my life. I know how it works. I’m not going to get my hopes up again.

“When are you going to call?” Elora asks. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah. I’ve got a few days before I’m off to Christchurch to catch the boat, so I might as well make the most of the time.”

“Well, good luck,” she says, and smiles.

Fraser checks his watch. “I’m flagging,” he says. “It’s my age. I think I’ll head off.”

“Yeah, me too,” Joel says.

“I’ll join you.” I get to my feet as they all rise, and I go over and slip on my Converses.

I hear Joel talking to Zoe about some artifact he’s heard about that he thinks she might be able to use for the exhibition on a wreck somewhere. He’s asking her if she wants to go up to the Northland with him tomorrow to look for it. I try not to smile. I could tell he liked her. Yeah, Joel, go for it, dude.

Elora comes to stand in front of me. She looks up at me with her big blue eyes. “So… I guess I might not see you again?”

I look down at her. I’ve changed a lot over the years. The Linc Green who lives in London is a popular guy, with a big circle of friends, a large apartment, and an affluent lifestyle, and he’s well respected in the archaeology community. Here, I become aware of the poor, angry boy I was back then. He’s still inside me somewhere, buried deep, and I don’t like feeling him simmering away.

But despite the fact that Elora doesn’t know wealthy, professional, charming Linc, she’s still looking at me as if I’m someone special, and I feel a tug deep inside, a warmth as I remember her sitting next to me, offering me half of her Twix, as well as a deeper, darker bloom of sexual attraction that’s nowhere near as innocent as the feelings I had for her when I was eighteen.

“I’m not done with you yet,” I tell her, making a decision. “Graham Tucker sent me a message with the name of his colleague. I’ve emailed him to ask for the name of the friend who bought the ring.”

“Ooh,” she says, “exciting.”

“Yeah, I thought so. We’re getting there. I’m hoping he’ll get back to me quickly. I’ll let you know tomorrow—maybe we can meet up for coffee or something.”

Her lips curve up. “Okay.”

“See you soon,” I say softly.

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