Ben, but I’m no longer a doctor. I’m a winemaker. Good luck with finding someone who can help you.’
And then she paused. A car was turning into the driveway. A rental car.
It must be Sydney friends, Ben thought, come over on the ferry, but Ginny wasn’t dressed for receiving guests. She was wearing jeans, an ancient windcheater, no make-up and she had mud smeared on her nose. A Koestler welcoming guests looking like a farmhand? No and no and no.
‘Now what?’ she said tightly, and she took the spray pack from Ben and turned to another vine. ‘Have you brought reinforcements? Don’t you know I have work to do?’
‘This isn’t anyone to do with me,’ Ben said, and watched who was climbing out of Kaimotu’s most prestigious hire car. The guy looked like a businessman, he thought, and a successful one at that. He was sleek, fortyish, wearing an expensive suit and an expression of disdain as he glanced around at the slightly neglected vineyard. The man opened the trunk and tossed out a holdall. Then he opened the back car door—and tugged out a child.
She was a little girl, four or five years old. She almost fell as her feet hit the ground, but the man righted her as if she was a thing, not a person.
‘Guinevere Koestrel?’ he called, and headed towards them, tugging the child beside him. ‘I’m Richard Harris, from Harris, Styne and Wilkes, partners in law from Sydney. You were expecting me? Or you were expecting the child?’
There was a long silence while Ginny simply stared, dumbstruck, at the incongruous couple approaching.
‘I…I guess,’ she managed at last. ‘But not yet.’
The lawyer was tugging The child closer and as he did…
Down’s syndrome, Ben thought. The markers were obvious. The little girl was beautifully dressed, her neat black hair was cropped into a smart little cut, there was a cute hair ribbon perched on top—but nothing could distract from the Down’s features.
He glanced back at Ginny, and he saw every vestige of colour had drained from her face. Instinctively he put out a hand to steady her and she grabbed it, as desperately as if she’d been drowning.
‘I didn’t expect…’ she said. ‘I thought…this wouldn’t happen for months. the legal processes…’
‘Our client was prepared to pay whatever was needed to free her to go to Europe,’ the man said, clipped and formal. ‘We sent you emails. We received no response and we had no phone contact. Our client left the country last Friday, giving us no choice but to bring her. We had a nanny accompany us to New Zealand but the girl gets seasick and refused to come on the ferry.’
He gazed down at the child, and at the look on his face Ben wondered how much leverage had been applied to make such a man do a job like this. A lot, he was sure.
‘I don’t…I don’t check emails any more,’ Ginny managed, and the lawyer looked at her as if she was a sandwich short of a picnic. A woman who didn’t check emails? His expression said she must be as disabled as the child beside him.
But…‘No matter,’ he said, making a hasty recovery. ‘My only fear was that I wouldn’t find you, but now you’re here this is the official handover. According to the documents we mailed to you last month, you’ve accepted responsibility for her. Her mother’s left for Europe. Her instructions were to deliver her to you and here she is.’
And he propelled her forward, pushing her away from him, a little girl in a pretty pink dress, with pink sandals and an expression that said she didn’t have one idea of what was happening to her.
If she weren’t a Down’s child, she’d be sobbing, Ben thought, but he knew enough about the syndrome to know sobbing was a last resort. But still…
‘Oh, my…’ Ginny said faintly, and Ben’s hold on her tightened still further. He’d seen patients in shock before, and Ginny was showing every symptom.
‘Ginny, what is this? What’s going on?’
Ginny gave herself a shake, as if trying to rid herself of a nightmare. She, too, was staring down at the child. ‘I…This is…’
She stopped and looked helplessly towards the lawyer and then at the little girl beside him. ‘Tell him,’ she said weakly. ‘Please…tell Ben.’
And the lawyer was happy to comply. He was obviously wanting a businesslike response and it looked like he’d decided Ben was the most likely to give it.
‘This is Barbara Carmody,’ the man said, clipped and efficient, not even looking at the little girl as he introduced her. ‘The child’s the result of an extra-marital affair between my client and Dr Koestrel’s late husband. Her mother raised her with her other two children but unfortunately her husband has finally discovered that the child isn’t his. He’s rejected her. The marriage has failed and Mrs Carmody has left for Europe.’
‘Her parents have deserted her?’ Ben said incredulously.
‘There are provisions for her care,’ the lawyer said smoothly. ‘Dr Koestrel’s late husband left funds in his will for this eventuality, and there are institutions that will take her. On Mrs Carmody’s instructions we contacted Dr Koestrel for the release of those funds but instead of releasing money she’s agreed to take on her care. So here she is. The paperwork’s all in her suitcase. If you need to contact her mother, do it through us—the address is with her papers. If you could sign the included documents and forward them to our office I’d appreciate it. If you’ll excuse me, I don’t wish to miss the return ferry. Good afternoon.’
And he turned back towards the car.
The little girl didn’t move. Neither did Ginny.
The man was about to walk away and leave the child behind.
No.
Ben strode to the car, slammed closed the car door the lawyer was attempting to open then set himself between lawyer and car while Ginny stood in stunned, white-faced silence.
The little girl didn’t move. She didn’t look at the lawyer. She didn’t look at anyone.
‘Abandoning a child’s a criminal offence,’ Ben said, quite mildly, looking from the little girl to Ginny and back again. Ginny was staring at the child as if she was seeing a ghost. ‘There must be formal proceedings…’
‘I’ll miss my ferry,’ the man said. ‘Dr Koestrel has signed the most important documents. Additional paperwork can be sent later.’
‘You can’t dump a child because you’ll miss your ferry,’ Ben said, and folded his arms, settling back, not understanding what was going on but prepared to be belligerent until he did.
‘Dr Koestrel’s agreed to take her. I’m not dumping anyone.’
‘So…what did you say? Barbara’s the result of an affair between some woman and…Ginny’s late husband? Ginny, can you explain?’
‘W-wait,’ Ginny managed. She looked helplessly at the little girl and then something seemed to firm. Shock receded a little, just a little. She took a deep breath and reached out and took the little girl’s hand.
She
