by Lilly Mirren
Josh.
Bindi gasped and ducked her head. Then, peered up at him through narrowed eyes. If he turned right now, he’d see her. She shook her head. What did it matter? She was an adult. She could manage an awkward conversation as well as the next person. Although…perhaps she should move, sit on the other side of the room where she’d be hidden from view by the wall.
Before she could do anything, he glanced up at her, as if he’d felt her eyes on him. His gaze met hers, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile. He said something to his partner, then headed in her direction.
She stood to her feet, smoothed the front of her shorts with nervous hands.
“Hi, Bindi,” he said, leaning forwards to kiss her cheek. “What are you doing here?” He glanced around, as though looking for someone.
“Hi Josh, just hanging out in the hospital. You know…good place to read a book.” She held up the book in her hand with a wry smile.
His eyes narrowed. “Okay.” His gaze travelled around the room, landing on a sign above a nearby doorway. It read, “Oncology outpatients”. His eyes widened and found her face. “Bindi, what’s going on?”
She sighed, set the book down on a chair beside her, then wrung her hands together. Having him there, with her, brought a lump into her throat. She’d missed him. How was that possible after only one date?
“I’m sick. I wanted to tell you, but…” She shrugged.
“Sick?”
“Cancer,” she replied, her tone matter of fact. It was out in the open now, and she was relieved. She hated having to hide it from him, to pretend that everything was fine. Hated him not knowing why she’d ended things between them before they’d even started.
He sucked in a quick breath. “What?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“No, it’s fine. We only had one date. I wouldn’t expect you to tell me…” He combed fingers through his hair. “I’m so sorry, Bindi.”
“Thanks.”
“Is this…” he began, then hesitated, seeming unsure of what to say next. “Is this why you told me you didn’t want to go out with me?”
She nodded. “Sorry.”
“Is there any other reason? Or was that it?”
His partner called his name from the other room. Josh waved him off with one hand, his attention fixed on Bindi’s face.
“No other reason. I really like you, Josh. I love spending time with you, but I’m sick. I have to give my attention to getting well, and it wouldn’t be fair to you…”
His brow furrowed. “All this time I thought you didn’t want to…” He shook his head. “I can’t get you out of my head, Bindi. I want to see you again.”
“But Josh, I’m sick. I have treatments, work, my sisters… I’m busy with all of that. I feel unwell a lot of the time, I throw up, I might even lose my hair. I mean, so far so good, but you never know.”
His eyes narrowed. “So, you don’t want to date me?”
“No, that’s not it. I don’t want to put you in this position. We’ve only been on one date, and you shouldn’t be stuck with someone who has cancer. It wouldn’t be fair on you.”
He sighed, took her hand in his and cupped it close to his chest. “Why don’t you let me decide what I want to be stuck with?”
She sighed. “I guess I can do that.”
“I don’t want you going through this alone.”
“I’m not alone,” she replied.
He glanced around the waiting room. “Where is everyone?”
Her cheeks flushed red. “They’re busy.”
“So, let me help. I’ll be here for you, and we can take things as slow as you like. I want to spend time with you, that’s all.”
Bindi’s heart thudded against her ribs. “Okay.”
He kissed her cheek, squeezed her hand, and sat.
They chatted while she waited, until finally a nurse came out of a closed door to call her name. She’d almost forgotten why she was there until the sound of her name jolted her back to reality. She stood with a sharp intake of breath, running her hands down the front of her shorts.
“I guess I’m next,” she said.
He smiled. “You’ll be fine.”
“I know…” Her stomach clenched.
“I’ll call you,” he said. Then leaned in to kiss her cheek, his breath caressing her skin.
She watched him go, her pulse racing, her head light. Had that really happened? Somehow, he’d convinced her to date him, even though she’d been adamantly against the idea only minutes earlier.
He was confident, almost cocky in a way. Definitely not the type of man she’d usually go for. He had no guile. Was simply himself and expected people to take him as he was. And he was cute. So cute, she’d been surprised when he asked her out the first time, and equally as surprised now. She’d figured he’d forgotten all about her after their date. No doubt women threw themselves at him all day long. What was it about her mousy hair, freckled cheeks, and bony figure that attracted him to her? She shook her head. Whatever it was, she was glad of it — couldn’t wait to see him again. Still, Josh Owens was a mystery. And his timing couldn’t have been worse.
15
May 1945
Casoli, Italy
The markets buzzed with activity. People came and went, a few with baskets swinging from their arms. They stared at Charlie as they passed — who was he? What was he doing there? He hadn’t seen any other young men his age since they’d arrived that morning to sell produce at the markets.
At some point in the past year, Angelo had come up with the idea that they could tell people he was a cousin, visiting from Milan, to help out during the war on Angelo’s farm. That he’d been injured as a boy and wasn’t able to fight. Besides, the Germans had left Italy a month earlier when Mussolini fell. He didn’t have to pretend to be Italian anymore, not if he didn’t want to. Still, they’d chosen to be cautious. The war was still raging, and it was anyone’s guess what might happen next. Stuck on the farm, Charlie felt out of touch with what was going on in the world, but they heard news every now and then from one of the neighbours who had a wireless radio.
“We sold out of almost everything,” said Maria, bumping his elbow with hers. “Uncle Angelo will be happy.”
“There wasn’t much chance we wouldn’t,” replied Charlie. His Italian was almost flawless now, at least that was what Maria told him. He never spoke in English anymore, unless she asked him to. “There’s so little food and everyone is hungry.”
She nodded. “Yes, but not much money either.” A sigh. “Still, we’ve done well I think.”
“Why are there so many people in the square today? They don’t seem to be shopping.”
Over the past few hours, the square that held the marketplace had begun to fill. A trickle of people filtered in at first, then slowly that trickle had built until there was barely room to move. People smiled, talked amongst themselves. Some carried streamers they threw into the air, others drank out of bottles they’d brought with them.
Maria shook her head. She waved at a woman passing by. “Excuse me, signora, what is happening?”
The woman shrugged. “There is an announcement,” she said, before hurrying on.
Maria frowned. “An announcement? Do you think this is it?”
“The end of the war?” asked Charlie. “Maybe.” They knew it was coming. Everyone said it was only a matter of time. The Germans had retreated, were being chased out of Italy by the Allies. Since moving to Casoli, Charlie had read everything he could get his hands on, most of it propaganda put out by the Germans or the pro-German government. Then, when he learned the language, he’d struck up conversations with friends and neighbours.
He knew all about the war now, the details of who was fighting on either side, what they were fighting for. He just didn’t know who he was, and still couldn’t recall the details of his life from before he was shot and woke up in Bruno and Maria’s mountain cabin.
They packed their things into the bas
kets they’d brought with them to town, mostly empty now, and joined the crowd. The momentum hurried them along, until they found themselves standing in a throng of people, waiting. Around them, several people held wireless radios in their hands. One man turned his up and held it aloft, several others followed his lead. A man’s voice echoed over the crowd’s heads.
“Who is that?” asked Charlie, as a man’s voice crackled over the airwaves.
Maria shrugged. “Winston Churchill, I think.”
* * *
My dear friends, this is your hour. This is not victory of a party or of any class. It’s a victory of the great British nation as a whole. We were the first, in this ancient island, to draw the sword against tyranny.
* * *
As the man’s voice continued, the crowd around them erupted into shouting, catcalls, and whistles. Everyone surged forward, embracing each other and dancing in the street. Some leaned against stone walls or slumped to the cobblestones below and cried. Still others kissed the closest lips.
Charlie stood frozen in place. The war was over? He didn’t know anything but living in fear, hiding away, hoping and praying for peace. He couldn’t remember a life before it. What now? What would he do now?
Maria faced him with her own troubled thoughts written clearly across her pretty face. “The war is over.”
He forced a smile to his face. Joy filled his heart, but fear pushed it down, making him tremble. “I know.”
“It’s wonderful,” she said, standing on tiptoe to wrap one arm around his neck, the other still clutching her basket.
“Yes, it is.” He lifted her up and twirled her around.
When he set her feet on the ground, she stared up at him, her doe-eyes searching his. “Does this mean…are you going to leave us?” she patted her swollen belly, stroking one hand around its growing girth in a circular movement.
He stared at the place where his child grew within her. “Of course not,” he said, shaking his head. “This is my home now, it’s where I belong. You’re my family. Where would I go? I don’t even know who I am. I might know my name, but that’s not enough. I can’t bear the idea of returning to a family I don’t remember. And what if they’re all dead? No, I want to stay here, with you.”
She set her basket on the ground by her feet and encircled him with both arms, tears glimmering in her eyes. “The war is over!” she cried.
He kissed her. The war was over. They could rebuild their lives, do what they wanted. No more hiding, no more fear. No one to take him away from his family. They were free.
16
December 1996
Cabarita Beach
The letter drifted from Bindi’s hand to the bed covers below. She let it fall, staring up at the ceiling with tears in her eyes. The past few days she’d taken to reading the letters Charlie had written to Nan, doing her best to try and find something between the lines that might help her discover what’d happened to him.
That he’d lost his memory and married an Italian woman almost broke her heart. Poor Nan, to receive this letter finally after so many years had passed. Obviously, Charlie must’ve figured out eventually who he was, remembered his name and what he’d left behind, or he couldn’t have written to his “Darling Edie,” as the letter was addressed.
Bindi wiped the tears from her cheeks, folded the letter and pushed it back into the wooden box. Her fingers travelled over its surface, tracing the outline of the horse’s head, and wondering how long it’d taken the teenaged boy to carve all those years ago. His heart had been full of love and hope when he’d marked the wood with his pocket-knife. How sad it was for her to know all that would be gone from his life soon after.
If Charlie had survived in Italy long enough to write these letters to Nan, what had become of him? Was he there still? If so, it was a shame they hadn’t discovered his whereabouts before Reeda’s trip. She could’ve met him, if he was still alive.
Bindi got out of bed with a grunt. The treatment the day before had knocked the wind right out of her. She was worn out and planned on spending the day doing paperwork in the office. Maybe she’d even finish work early and watch movies in her bedroom.
After a hot shower and change of clothes, she felt a little better. She found Mima in the kitchen, arguing with Kate over the best way to stew strawberries to make strawberry jam.
“You don’t need to add anything but sugar and lemon juice. Trust me,” she said.
Bindi smiled as Kate did her best to argue for a more complex jam, to no avail. Kate kissed Bindi on the cheek with a shake of her head. “Sometimes, Mima is impossible.”
Bindi huffed. “I think you’ve met your match.”
“Hey, I’m easy going and carefree.”
“Sure you are.”
Kate snorted as she headed towards the dining room. “I’m going to check on breakfast, make sure everyone’s finished and the staff are doing their jobs.”
Bindi waved her goodbye, as she poured herself a cup of tea and looked around the kitchen for something to eat. “Have I missed breakfast entirely?”
Mima shook her head. “Of course not, love. There’s some left over bircher muesli, yoghurt, and fruit in the fridge if you’re interested.”
Bindi made herself a bowl of bircher muesli and sat at the table with it. Mima grabbed a cup of tea as well and joined her.
“Sorry I couldn’t go to the hospital with you yesterday,” she said. “How are you feeling, honey?”
Bindi waved a hand back and forth. “So, so. I think I’ll be okay once I get some of this food into me.”
She took a bite of the muesli and chewed, still thinking about Charlie’s letters. She hadn’t yet told Mima, Kate or Reeda about Josh and their encounter at the hospital. She wasn’t sure of what to tell them and didn’t know if it would come to anything. He’d said he would call her, but there were no guarantees. She preferred to think about something else. Nan and Charlie’s letters were just the thing to distract her from the silent telephone hanging on the kitchen wall.
“Everything okay, love?” asked Mima.
“Yes, I’m fine. Tired, but not too bad considering. I was reading one of Charlie’s letters to Nan.”
Mima arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“I wish we knew where he was. It’s so heartbreaking to read all they went through, knowing that he never made it back, that they both married other people. Did they ever stop loving each other? Was Nan happy with Pop? My heart hurts thinking about it.” Bindi shook her head slowly, swallowing around the lump building in her throat.
Mima sighed. “She was very happy with your grandfather, my dear. Yes, she went through a period of mourning, as so many of us did after the war. But she didn’t hear from Charlie for so many years…”
Bindi’s eyes narrowed. She was certain Mima knew more than she was letting on. “When? When did she get the letters? They’re not time stamped — well some of them are, and others aren’t. Where did they come from?”
Mima raised both hands as if in surrender. “Whoa. Slow down, honey. Slow down. I don’t know all that. Edie didn’t tell me everything, you know.”
Bindi wasn’t sure she believed Mima entirely. “I thought the two of you were thick as thieves.”
“We were, but even best friends keep some secrets from each other.”
A rumble outside caught Bindi’s ear. Tyres crunched on the driveway.
“That’ll be Betty,” said Mima. “She’s taking me lawn bowling. Can you believe it? I’m officially joining the retirement community now. And maybe we’ll even meet some handsome men in white.” She kissed Bindi on the cheek, her eyes sparking with laughter, then hurried to meet her friend.
Bindi listened as Mima and Betty talked and giggled together all the way back to Betty’s car. She finished her muesli in silence, thinking about what Mima had said. Had Mima really been in the dark about Charlie’s letters? Did she know where he ended up, when he sent the letters to Nan? She had to know more than she was letting on. She a
nd Nan talked about everything — at least that was the way Bindi remembered it.
She rinsed out her plate and did a lap of the inn’s ground floor, as she always did first thing in the morning. She’d slept late, breakfast was well and truly over and most of the guests had rushed back to their rooms to pack and check out or had headed out to begin their day at the beach. The inn was quiet, but for the murmur of a few voices in the sitting room.
With curiosity spurring her forward, she poked her head through the doorway to see who was there. Kate, Reeda, and two men sat across from each other in armchairs. Large plans were laid out, sprawling white sheets of paper, on the coffee table between them. Kate was leaning over the table, her shoulders hunched, her eyes fixed on something as she discussed it with the others.
“‘Morning,” said Bindi, her eyes narrowing. What was going on? It looked like a business meeting, but if it was, why hadn’t she been included, given she was the manager of the inn?
Reeda smiled at her.
Kate glanced up and scooted back into her chair, straightening with, Bindi was satisfied to see, a flash of guilt in her eyes. “Hi Bindi, there you are. I was about to come and get you…”
“I apologise for my lateness.” Bindi held out a hand to the two men. “Pleased to meet you, I’m Bindi Summer.”
The men each shook hands, introducing themselves as Kurt and Kevin from Prestige Architects.
Bindi’s nostrils flared. “You’re discussing the restaurant and kitchen?”
Kate nodded. “We’re meeting to talk about the initial plans. Kevin put together this draft sketch and we’re going over it together.”
Bindi found a chair against the back wall and dragged it over to join their circle. They returned to their discussions, almost as if she wasn’t there. She watched and listened in silence, and when the men left, rolling their plans, and dropping them into long cylindrical boxes to carry beneath their arms, she watched them go without a smile.
