It wasn’t until I started up the Mini that I remembered the rash vow I’d made the night before. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined that I’d be called upon to keep it, yet it seemed that I would, in fact, have to travel to the ends of the earth in order to keep my promise to the Pyms.
That I would make the journey was a foregone conclusion—I could almost feel Bill’s hand on the small of my back as he pushed me out of the cottage and hear Willis, Sr.’s voice as he urged me to do my duty—but I wouldn’t travel alone.
“I hope you’re up for a trip, Dimity,” I muttered, “because it looks as though you and I are going to New Zealand.”
Six
Some time later, I watched Auckland’s bright carpet of lights emerge from the black immensity of the Tasman Sea.
“At last,” I muttered hoarsely.
I had no idea how many days had passed since Bill had dropped me off at Heathrow Airport. According to my itinerary, I’d spent twenty-three hours crossing the Atlantic Ocean, the North American continent, and the Pacific Ocean, and an additional four hours killing time during a layover in Los Angeles, but I’d somehow lost two days when I’d crossed the International Date Line, so my sense of time was completely out of whack. I felt as if I’d spent most of my adult life confined to the first-class cabin of an Air New Zealand jet. I shuddered to think of what the journey had been like for those traveling in coach.
I turned away from my window to gaze blearily at the smiling face of Serena, my smartly dressed and much too chipper flight attendant. Her clear eyes and glowing complexion brought back distant memories of what it had once been like to be freshly bathed, well-rested, and alert.
“It’s five twenty A.M. local time, and we’re about to land in New Zealand’s largest city,” Serena informed me. “If you include the suburbs, Auckland covers sixty square kilometers—that’s twenty-three square miles to you Americans—and it contains nearly a third of New Zealand’s entire population. Auckland was named after Lord Auckland, the Governor-General of India. It was once the capital of New Zealand? and it’s ringed by forty-eight extinct volcanoes.”
“Volcanoes? ” I said, roused from my torpor.
“Extinct volcanoes,” said Serena. “The active volcanoes are farther south.”
“How much farther?” I demanded.
“Let’s prepare for landing, shall we?” she asked, and moved on to her next victim.
I raised my seat back to its upright and locked position, then turned to gaze downward again. I hadn’t expected New Zealand’s largest city to be quite so large. Its glimmering lights seemed to go on forever and a surprising number of them seemed to belong to tall buildings. As the plane descended smoothly toward the runway, I couldn’t help wondering if it was safe to build skyscrapers in a city ringed by forty-eight allegedly extinct volcanoes. In my fragile, sleep-deprived state, I was a bit put out with everyone who’d had a hand in sending me to a place that might blow itself up without warning.
The family conference had gone exactly as I’d predicted. After I’d revealed the true nature of the Pym sisters’ request, Bill had pulled my suitcases down from the attic and Willis, Sr., had used the world atlas to show Will and Rob where Mummy would be going. There’d been no debate about whether I should go or not. My loved ones had simply assumed that I would leave as soon as possible.
A phone call to Mrs. Abercrombie had put me on the first flight out of London the following morning. I’d been so busy packing, fussing over the boys, making to-do lists for Willis, Sr., and conferring with Aunt Dimity that I hadn’t had a moment to spare for a last-minute visit with the Pyms. I’d had to settle instead for a hurried telephone conversation with Nell, who’d assured me that Ruth and Louise were doing as well as could be expected.
Bill had arranged via e-mail for one of his old school friends—a native New Zealander named Cameron Mackenzie—to meet me at the Auckland Airport and drive me to my hotel, which turned out to be a very good idea. By the time I exited the plane, retrieved my luggage, and passed through the customs and quarantine checkpoints, I could scarcely remember how to summon a taxi, let alone how to give directions to a driver, but thanks to Bill’s foresight, I didn’t have to fend for myself. I was simply scooped up at the arrivals barrier by a tall, soft-spoken blur of a man who guided me gently to a car and didn’t argue with me when I refused to relinquish my carry-on bag to him.
I conked out before he finished putting my suitcase in the trunk and came to when he shook me firmly by the shoulder.
“We’re here,” he said.
At least, that’s what I thought he said. To my sleep-clogged ears, it sounded more like “Weah-heah.”
“Okay,” I said.
I dragged myself, my shoulder bag, and my carry-on out of the car and allowed the tall blur to lead me into the brightly lit lobby of the Spencer on Byron Hotel, check me in, and board an elevator with me.
“Who are you?” I asked stupidly, peering up at the tall blur.
“Cameron Mackenzie,” he replied. “I’m an old friend of your husband’s.”