The next stop was to see Lucas at the garage and return his doll. “What happened to Maisie?” he asked, gaping at the shredded pile of plastic in Bella’s arms.
“Sorry, Lucas, Hoki was mowing the lawn and ran over it. Would you like another one? I notice the massage parlour has a sale on some of its products. They have one of these dolls in the window and —”
“No,” Lucas said, blushing. “Let Arnie buy his own when he gets back.”
“That’s the other thing I want to tell you,” Bella said. “Hoki asked him to take Skylark to Auckland to get some clothes and other personal things that Cora needs. He’ll be gone for a week.”
“A week?” Lucas yelped. “Why so long? You could go round the world in a week.”
“You don’t know the half of it,” Bella clucked sympathetically. “But look on the bright side, Lucas. Just think how grateful Cora will be that you did this for her.”
“You think so?” Lucas asked hopefully. “You really think so?”
Bella nodded and patted him on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, Lucas,” she said as, finally, she was able to leave him and go to visit Cora at the hospital.
There, Bella’s heart went out to this woman who had come to mean so much to so many different people.
“Cora? Can you hear me?” Bella asked, as she sat down beside her and held her hand. “Hold on, dear. Skylark’s on the way to save you. She’ll be back soon.”
Cora seemed to hear her, gave a sigh and turned her head away. In profile, Bella saw the look of her dear sister Agnes, and her thoughts turned to the possibility of some connection.
“No, it’s a crazy idea,” Bella muttered. But the idea kept nagging at her and soon she was making two and two out of so many flimsy possibilities. Cora was born in Christchurch in the same year that Agnes ran away from home. Cora had Maori ancestry on her mother’s side, so could that mother have been Agnes? Looked at from another angle, if Skylark was the chick, it made sense that she should have some kinship relationship with Manu Valley, didn’t it?
Yes, and pigs could fly.
“Get a grip,” Bella scolded herself. She looked for some way of diverting her attention. A bouquet of beautiful long-stemmed roses had been delivered to Cora. Bella found a vase, filled it with water, took the roses out of their cellophane wrapping and began to arrange them. Fantasising that they had been sent by Tom Cruise or Brad Pitt, she couldn’t resist looking at the card: To My Darling Goddaughter, Cora. Get Well Soon. Love Florence.
“Florence?” Bella mused. “Who the hell’s Florence?”
Her curiousity piqued, she walked out to the hospital receptionist. “Can you tell me who sent the roses?” she asked.
“They arrived this morning,” the receptionist answered. “Beautiful, aren’t they? I had to sign for them.” She rummaged through the filing cabinet for the receipt. “Here we are,” she continued. “They came from Mrs Florence Wipani of Christchurch.”
“I know that name,” Bella said, and her eyes widened with recognition. “You wouldn’t have a phone number there would you?”
“You can use the telephone in Dr Goodwin’s room if you wish,” the receptionist said, giving the number to Bella.
Bella went to the room and closed the door behind her. She sat down feeling a bit weak at the knees. Things were getting curiouser and curiouser. It had been years since she had even thought of Florence; after all, Florence had been more Agnes’s friend than hers or Hoki’s.
“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” Bella said as she picked up the telephone and dialled the number.
“Hello?” a voice answered. Cultured. Upper class.
“Is this Florence Wipani?” Bella asked.
“This is she,” the voice answered. “To whom am I speaking?”
No doubt about it, Bella thought. She was talking to Florence all right, her sister Agnes’s best friend; when Agnes had left Tuapa, Florence had joined her in Christchurch. Florence had always had a slight lisp — Thith ith thee — and no amount of cultivation could hide it. She’d come up in the world since the days when she had been plain old Flo, Fred the butcher’s daughter.
Bella decided that the best strategy was to cut the crap and go straight for the jugular. “I know it’s you, Flo, so don’t try to hide it. This is Bella here, Agnes’s sister. I want the truth about Cora. What are you hiding? What’s this all about?”
It seemed to Skylark that thousands of small bones were flying all around her, twisting, whirling and wheeling. At first she thought they might hit her, but they seemed to know she was there and whizzed, sizzled and spat past her with centimetres to spare. The bones trailed light like after-images and, as she watched, Skylark saw they were moving in a particular sequence. They were building a circle. One by one, they spun, hovered, edged in with each other and clicked into place until —
Interlock.
The bones became stationary. Time was in stasis. But for how long? What had Lottie said?
She had four days.
The circle began to hum. Skylark flew closer to it. She saw that a dark indigo tunnel had formed inside the circle. “The Time Portal,” Skylark whispered to herself. It looked as if it went on for years and years. It was so dark in there. Dark. Windy. Scary.
“Where are you, Arnie?” Skylark called.
“Right behind you,” he whistled. “Feel like doing another tandem jump?”
Before she could say no, Arnie pushed her through.
“You boofhead!” Skylark screamed. “I really hate you.”
“Oh Skylark,” Arnie laughed. “Can’t you just switch off your brain and enjoy the ride? Just pretend you’re in a hydroslide at the swimming pool.”
“I avoid those slides like the plague,” Skylark answered.
She looked for something to hold onto — but what? There was nothing there but air.
“Just think of all those sci-fi movies where the hero has to go back in time or through a stargate or wormholes into an alternative universe.”
“Hero? Excuse me?” Skylark asked. She hated this sensation of falling and of having no control over it.
Arnie, of course, was loving it, revelling in his new abilities: “Oh man! Oh wow! Oh awe-some!” Skylark got so tired of his darting over, under and around her, not to mention his persistent male chauvinism, that she accidentally on purpose tipped one of his wings with hers. Arnie gave a yell as he tumbled off to the left.
“Oops,” Skylark said. “Heh heh heh.”
“You meant to do that,” Arnie accused as he righted himself and sped back. But he was so revved up, he couldn’t stay cross for long. Everything excited him, and when he looked ahead, the pupils of his eyes dilated. “Oh man, I’ve got telescopic vision!” he yelled. “I can see light down there.”
“Down there? Where?”
“Can’t you see it?” Arnie asked. “Oh, I forgot,” he added slyly, “you’re a skylark and you have limited vision.”
“Don’t push your luck,” Skylark answered. “But yes, I can see it!”
Sure enough, far down in the distance was a pinhole of brightness. Then the pinhole began to widen. “Uh oh,” Skylark said. The pinhole had now become like the plughole of a bath. She felt centrifugal forces sucking her down, buffeting her around, and she had the sudden urge to fight against them. Just because she had agreed to go back in time didn’t mean she had to like it. Nor did she have any experience of being a bird, and it was difficult learning about the controls. “Where are the bloody brakes?” she yelled. “How do I get this thing into reverse?”As for Arnie, he was totally into it.
“Don’t fight it! Go with the flow!” Arnie folded his wings and dropped like a stone through the middle of the light.