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“Do you know how that makes me feel?” I say, so upset that it makes my voice raw. “I feel… violated.”
“Don’t,” she says.
“After everything we’ve been through. I feel…” I struggle to put it into words. “I feel as if you’ve cut out my heart and given it to him. Do you understand?” It sounds dramatic, but it’s true. “You had no right to do that,” I tell her. “I know he’s behind bars and he’s never coming out, but just the fact that he knows where I am… It’s made me feel incredibly vulnerable.”
“I’m sorry.”
I take her hands in mine and pull them away from her face. “Why are you in contact with him?” I’m desperate to understand. “Dee said you write to him every month, and always have done. Why?”
Tears roll down her face. “He’s my husband.”
“Not anymore.”
She meets my eyes, then lowers them again.
I stare at her as horror fills me. “But you divorced him, not long after we came to Wellington.”
She wipes her cheeks, but more tears take their place. “I didn’t. I couldn’t go through with it.”
My heart bangs on my ribs. “You’re still married to him?”
“Yes.”
I’m breathing fast. Suddenly, the urge to vomit sweeps over me. I run around the breakfast bar to the sink and retch, although nothing comes up.
“Hallie…” Mum rests a hand on my back, but I shake it off. I retch again, and again, then burst into tears.
“Darling…” She turns me and pulls me into her arms.
Too upset to fight her, I sob into her shoulder for a minute or so. As I calm a little, though, I move back and walk around the breakfast bar so she can’t touch me.
We stand, looking at each other, both with tears on our cheeks. I wrap my arms tightly around me like a shield.
“Do you visit him?” I whisper.
She nods.
Oh God. I don’t think Dee knows. She’s going to go ballistic.
I pick up my purse. “If you tell him anything else about me… if I get one more letter, or any communication from him… we’re done, you and I. Do you understand?”
She presses her fingers to her lips, but she nods.
I turn and walk out of the door.
*
I’m halfway back to the museum when my mobile buzzes in my pocket, announcing a phone call. Thinking it might be Mum, I’m about to cancel it, not ready to talk to her again, when I see it says ‘unknown number’. My thumb hovers over the red button, but at the last minute I slide the green one across and put it to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Hallie, I’m sorry to bother you, it’s Whina Cooper here.”
“Oh. Hello.” I think about the events of the past few days and feel heat rising inside me. Is she going to ask me what happened with Fraser?”
But instead she says, “I’d like to talk to you about something. Would you be able to call at my house?”
“Um, yes, okay. What time?”