Prossers Bay Series

by Cheryl Phipps

  The three of them climbed in and headed out to the first lot of houses that they cleaned on a weekly basis for the rich, absent landlords of Prossers Bay. The number of houses fluctuated slightly with the bookings over the seasons but since they were all situated on prime real estate overlooking the bay, and all within minutes of the beach, they weren’t empty often. It meant Abby could charge a great rate and she didn’t feel the slightest twinge of guilt because a) the owners could afford it and b) her team did a fantastic job.

  Being a seaside town, most of the locals were involved in some way in making it attractive to tourists and holiday makers. As the women drove past ‘Haven’, a relatively new resort, they craned their necks to see what latest feature had been added. They knew some rich people because of the business they were in, but this latest investment had to be worth millions and took the owner to an entirely different level.

  Abby’s business was so tiny by comparison, but it still took up a lot of time. She couldn’t imagine what the resort owner had to give up to run that place.

  It didn’t take them long to get to the first lot of houses, and when they got out they took their pre-filled baskets to their designated houses to begin the ritual.

  Bundling up the used bed linen and towels first, then on to vacuuming, cleaning and dusting, Abby was totally immersed in her tasks. Eventually, she stopped long enough to stretch and look at the time. It was just past twelve so she washed her hands, then picked up her cooler bag and headed outside.

  As usual, the three women met for lunch, choosing a venue on the spur of the moment. Today the weather was lovely, so they decided to walk the few hundred yards to the beach.

  The sun beat down on them, as they sat partially shaded by a large Pohutukawa tree at one of a group of picnic tables. They had no idea what each of them would bring, but they always had a shared lunch, and it just worked out, somehow.

  “How’s Max these days? I haven’t seen him in ages.” Megan opened a container of salad and put it on the table, along with a dressing.

  Stephanie opened her bag and pulled out some fried chicken, while Abby poured them each a coffee from her thermos and handed out plastic plates and cutlery.

  “He’s fine. The garage keeps him pretty busy these days. Some of the people using the resort have booked in for services to their cars, since they don’t need them very much during their stay. Apparently, the owner has recommended him. Which is strange, since he doesn’t know us.”

  “Great for business, though.” Stephanie took a sip of her coffee and sighed with pleasure.

  “Speaking of which, is it time to change the roster yet?”

  Abby threw the topic out there. They’d tried cleaning one house at a time together in the early days, but it was too easy to get distracted and chat, making everything take twice as long.

  “Hell, no. I like the routine of doing the same houses. I think I go into a trance and forget about my own stuff for a while.”

  Abby looked at Stephanie with concern. “Is everything okay?”

  “Did I sound weird? No, I’m fine. I just want to have something happen, something exciting. You know what I mean?”

  “Absolutely. I love my girls, but being a mom is all I am these days.” Megan looked quickly at Abby.

  Abby smiled her reassurance. Her friends had been there when she was at her worst and she didn’t want them to be watching what they said anymore. Sure, she would have loved to ‘just be a mom’. More than anything, once upon a time. The last couple of years had been awful and she’d finally accepted that she was actually relieved to be off that emotional and physical roller coaster of falling pregnant and being too scared to be happy because the inevitable loss was sure to happen. Which it had - every single time. It wasn’t to be and persevering had only achieved heartache, and a tense marriage.

  She’d had to move on or become bitter, and allow herself to be enveloped in the depression that had taken the joy from her life. And that life was pretty darned good when you had friends like these two. Megan had taken on the lion’s share of the work when she’d been so ill, and both had been nearly as supportive as Max.

  She smiled at them as she opened her bag and pulled out a container of brownies, waving them about, like a magician.

  “Ta da! Bet you thought I hadn’t brought anything but the coffee.”

  “I wouldn’t have bet on it, but I would have been very upset. I almost burned my crappy kitchen down making the chicken last night, so any sort of baking is welcome, but your brownies - well there aren’t enough adjectives for how good they taste. Now hand those babies over here.” Stephanie put a hand to her mouth at her faux pas.

  Abby gave her the container. “Stop it, both of you. Women all over the world have the same problems as me. Just because I hate being one of them doesn’t mean I should be miserable or that you should walk on eggshells. Besides, look at this beautiful view. It makes you glad to be alive.”

  In front of them, the Bay stretched away in each direction. The sand as white as any Pacific Ocean island should be. The water a blue so deep it made you want to step into its sparkling coolness. New Zealand was a great place to live, but out here on the coast it was paradise.

  They stayed for as long as they could, but there was work to do and a timeframe to keep, despite living away from a big city.

  After the cleaning, Abby still had to go home to do the accounts, and the washing, then repack the cleaning gear for the next day. Not to mention fixing dinner. It was going to be a long day, so the sooner she got to her next house, the better.

  Chapter Two

  The next day Abby stood in the middle of a large beach house, although it was more like a small mansion, and was puzzled. Every room was opulent, with furniture and fittings of outstanding quality. Large rooms and huge windows showcased gorgeous views out over the bay, making her cleaning almost a labor of love. Not today. There was something not right.

  The last renters had left two days ago, and yet it looked like someone was living here. She knew the couple had no children, so why were two extra bedrooms being used? The kitchen was a mess, and there were signs of a meal being recently eaten. Cereal littered the bench top, milk had spilled but was not yet congealed and the trash can was full to overflowing.

  It was very odd. Not that is was unusual for people to leave the beautiful homes in a mess, but this particular couple had been coming here for several years, and had never left it remotely like this.

  She opened the fridge to clean out any leftovers and that, too, was odd. People with money didn’t care how much they left behind but this time it was pretty bare. A jam jar sat on a low shelf, empty, with a spoon sticking out of it. A sandwich wrapper, from a company in another town, occupied the same shelf. There was also an empty bottle of juice in the bottom alongside an empty milk container.

  Stranger still, there were sticky fingerprints on the light switches and on the walls. A jar of olives was upturned in the sink, a bite out of one, as if someone had tried them and found them not to their liking. Maybe the couple had brought a child with them? No - bearing in mind their ages, but perhaps a grandchild?

  In spite of these odd feelings, Abby had finished cleaning, and was about to take the linen bag and her basket to the car when she heard a bang coming from the main bedroom. She ran down the hall, hoping that she hadn’t left a window open, allowing a cat to get in. Neatly made, the bed was center stage, and nothing seemed amiss. Surely, she hadn’t imagined it.

  Then, something caught her eye. A red, toy car lay on the carpet. Carpet she had vacuumed not very long ago, and she’d swear it had not been there then. Hunkering down on her knees she looked under the bed.

  A child, with large brown eyes, peering fearfully out from beneath long, dirty hair, scrambled back further into his hideout, and stared at her.

  Abby couldn’t move. She thought he was a boy and she wanted to reach out to him. To make the fear go away. But, she sensed he wasn’t in the right frame of mind for anything
like that. What was he doing here? And who did he belong to?

  “Hi there. My name’s Abby.”

  If anything, he seemed to shrink away even more.

  “What’s your name?”

  He didn’t seem to blink and she was sure he held his breath. Finally, Abby got up and went to get her bag from the kitchen. She brought it back to the room, and rummaging inside she pulled out her emergency chocolate bar. Down on the floor once more, she laid flat on her stomach and held it out to him.

  “I won’t hurt you. Do you like chocolate? This is my favorite kind, but I’m not hungry.” Abby tried to keep her voice calm, willing the boy to trust her.

  There was a flicker of interest at the word chocolate. Then as she unwrapped it his eyes darted from the smooth creamy bar to her face and back, a longing clearly there, which seemed more than a childish like of sweets. The boy looked famished.

  He tentatively stretched out a skinny arm and Abby placed the bar on the carpet, nearly within his reach, then backed away a little. The boy snatched it up, ripped off the rest of the paper and ate ravenously, while his eyes remained on her face.

  “Goodness, you were hungry. My name’s Abby, and I clean this house. What’s your name?”

  Silence.

  “I don’t know where you’ve come from, but you do know that you can’t stay here, right?”

  “Nobody lives here,” he said, his chin jutting out, his voice a croak.

  “The owners don’t live here all the time, but they do come now and again, and at other times they rent it out. Somebody else is coming to stay in a couple of days.”

  He thought about that for a minute or two, a frown on his cute face.

  “Can I stay until then?”

  “I’m sorry, but they would be angry if I let that happen.”

  The boy looked crestfallen. “I have to stay here until my mom gets back.”

  “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “When is she coming back?”

  “Soon,” he said, very firmly.

  “Today?”

  He shrugged his shoulders, and his mouth wobbled a little.

  “How about coming out from there, and we can figure this out together?”

  “Are you going to call the police?”

  “Not right now. I will have to call them eventually, if you can’t tell me why you and your mom have been living here.”

  He’d made a start at coming out but at that, he moved back.

  “If you call the police, they’ll lock me up.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “Because I’m bad.”

  Abby was taken aback and, at the same time, annoyed that someone could have put the idea into a small child’s head.

  “What did you do that was so bad?”

  He looked confused.

  “My mom said …” His eyes widened and he put a hand to his mouth.

  “What did your mom say?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  Interesting that he said ‘can’t’ not ‘won’t’, and why would a mother leave her small child alone in a stranger’s house?

  “Is your mom really coming back here to get you?”

  “She said she was. She promised me if I was good it would all be okay. She said that I’d be in big trouble if I went anywhere.” A fat tear rolled down his cheek. “But it was a long time ago.”

  “Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll leave a note for your mom and then you come home with me and have something to eat. After that, we can decide what to do. Maybe we need to look for your mom.”

  “And, you won’t call the police?”

  “Not for a while, anyway.”

  The boy thought about it for a few seconds before he moved. The growling of his stomach may have been the deciding factor for him cautiously sliding out from under the bed.

  “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” he frowned.

  “Well, I’ll tell you about myself and then we won’t be strangers, will we?”

  He tilted his head to the side and chewed his lip a little. “I guess.”

  “Can you help me carry my things to the car?”

  He picked up the basket of cleaning products without a murmur, even though it must have been heavy for his little arms, and followed her out to the van. Abby stowed the dirty linen and the basket in the back and then opened the sliding door for him. Warily he got in, glancing back at the house, and looking less certain about his decision with every second.

  “Put your seatbelt on, honey. I have to pick up a couple of my work mates and drop them off, then we can go home.”

  The boy stared at her as if she’d betrayed him already, but she’d no choice. Stephanie and Megan were waiting at the next corner and they waved as she pulled up.

  “Hey, who do we have here?” Stephanie pushed her basket and Megan’s inside and slid along the bench seat to make room for Megan who was putting the rest of the linen in the back.

  Abby shook her head in warning and Stephanie’s eyes widened in response.

  “This is a friend of mine. He’s a bit shy. I’m taking him home until we find his mom. These are my friends, Megan and Stephanie.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Megan smiled at the boy as she climbed in and gave Abby a questioning look, but held her tongue, much to Abby’s relief.

  “Liam,” he blurted out, surprising everyone.

  “Sorry?” Megan asked.

  “Liam. That’s my name.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Liam. You are one lucky kid. Abby makes the best brownies in the world,” Stephanie added.

  “It’s true,” said Megan. “My two girls love them, and they’re terribly fussy about what they eat.”

  Abby pulled up outside her house. All the women got out and put their baskets in the garage. Seeming to sense that Abby wanted to have Liam on his own, they didn’t hang around for a few minutes like they usually did.

  “See you tomorrow,” they waved, and walked down the street to their own houses.

  Their heads were close together, probably discussing what the heck Abby was up to by taking a strange child home, and they’d be worried about her. A fair call since she was worried too.

  “Alright, Liam, how about we get inside and make a snack?”

  He didn’t say anything, but climbed out and followed her into the house.

  They washed their hands at the sink and Abby started pulling things out of the fridge. Bread, butter, tomatoes, lettuce and ham. Some good staples and healthy, too. Getting a plate from the cupboard and a knife that wasn’t too sharp, Abby let him make his own sandwich.

  He was awkward, but seemed to be enjoying himself. His tongue, stuck at the side of his mouth in concentration, was way too cute. When he struggled to cut the tomato, he let Abby slice it for him.

  “Thank you,” he said before shoving some in his mouth.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Were all kids this age so well-mannered? She would have bet money on ‘no’ being the answer. The twins were lovely natured, sibling rivalry aside, and Jeanne’s kids were great, but Liam was on another level.

  They sat side by side while he devoured every scrap. His hand holding onto the plate as if she might suddenly whisk it away before he was done.

  “If you’ve had enough, I thought I might make a fresh batch of brownies, and I wondered if you’d like to help me.”

  “When I was little my mom and I used to make biscuits but I don’t know how to make brownies.”

  Abby tried not to laugh at his interpretation of being little.

  “Well, brownies aren’t so different and I can show you.”

  “Okay.”

  Abby collected everything she needed and brought a kitchen chair to the bench so that he could kneel on it. Step by step, she guided him until they had the mixture ready to bake. Carefully, they put it into the oven and as she shut the door, he clapped his hands.

  “That was cool.”

  “It feels
good to make something, doesn’t it?”

  He nodded, looking satisfied as he sat back on his chair to watch his handiwork baking. Then his eyes lit up. “I remember my mom used to let me lick the bowl.”

  Abby grinned. “I think that’s the best part of baking. Here you go.”

  He was so excited that in just a few minutes his face was covered in mixture. Abby began to clean up around him. Perhaps while he was occupied she should ask him a few questions. Easy stuff that wouldn’t frighten him.

  “Do you like school, Liam?”

  “Sometimes,” he said, smacking his lips in satisfaction.

  “What things are you good at?”

  “Running and jumping.”

  “Those are fun things. How old are you?”

  “Seven. I’m the tallest in my class.”

  “I bet you are. What school do you go to?”

  “I’m not going there anymore. I have to go to the bathroom.”

  Abby’s head shot up. Had he just changed the subject? For a young boy, he seemed a little too knowing. What had happened for him to be like this?

  She showed him where it was and went back to the kitchen. The phone sat on the counter and her hand went towards it, then dropped to her side. She should contact someone about Liam, but she couldn’t bring herself to; not yet. It was freakishly wrong to almost kidnap a child, but having him here felt right.

  Although, Max might be a little upset when he got home and found out what she’d done, or not done. She’d definitely call someone - after dinner, she told herself.

  “Abby? Are you home?” Max called from the hallway.

  She wiped her hands on a towel and prepared herself to face her husband. “I’m in the kitchen.”

  “What a day. There was an accident sometime yesterday, but they only found the car today. It was half hidden in a ravine. The police couldn’t locate the owner, and I had to send Kenny with the tow truck to pull it out. I’ve been on my own most of the day, and I don’t know when we’ll get paid for the tow. Although, I guess I can sell the car if the owner decides it’s not worth collecting.”