by Lilly Mirren
Kate and Reeda showed the men out, then returned.
Kate pushed a smile onto her face. “I think that went well. How about you, Bindi?”
Bindi glowered at her. “When did you know about this meeting?”
“What?”
“Come on, Bindi,” Reeda tried. “Don’t be angry with us, we’re trying to get things moving on the restaurant.”
Bindi pressed her lips together. “I understand that, I only wonder why you didn’t feel the need to include me. I’m a part of this team, I run the inn. Don’t you think I should be part of any meetings?”
Kate and Reeda exchanged a worried glance that only further incensed Bindi.
“We didn’t want to tire you out,” replied Reeda, resting a hand on Bindi’s arm. “We’re worried about you.”
“I understand that.” Bindi sighed. “But I’m not dead yet.”
Kate gasped. “Bindi, don’t talk that way!”
“Well, you’re excluding me from business meetings…are you trying to set things up to run without me?” As the words poured from her mouth, she could hear how irrational she was becoming, how much she was overreacting, yet couldn’t seem to stop herself.
She sobbed, unable to check the heaving in her chest. “I’m still here. I’m a part of this business and this family.”
Kate enveloped Bindi in a warm embrace. “Of course you are, that’s not what we’re doing. We’re trying to take care of you, not give you too many things to worry about. We don’t want you to overdo it.”
“Look, Bindi, I know you’re frustrated, but we can handle this,” added Reeda, her arms crossed over her chest.
Bindi sobbed even more loudly. “I know you can. I’m tired, and I’m scared, and I don’t want you to replace me. Not yet.”
Reeda joined them, adding her arms around both Kate and Bindi. She squeezed, and Bindi felt warm and loved in the middle of all of it all.
“We could never replace you, honey. You know that. What is this all about?”
“I don’t know,” wailed Bindi.
Kate smiled. “Okay, well, if you’d like to sit down together, we can grab a cup of tea and talk through everything the architects suggested to get your input. Does that sound like a good idea?”
Bindi nodded.
Reeda fetched three cups of tea on a tray from the kitchen, and Kate hurried to the office to get some paper and pencils. Then, she laid the paper out on the table and did her best to sketch out the design they’d discussed with the architects. Even seeing the rough outline on a piece of printer paper set Bindi’s heart racing. It was exciting to see the inn expanding, becoming something more than even Nan and Pop had envisioned. Would it be worth it? Would it work out? She hoped so, they were gambling a lot on making the Waratah Inn a destination worth visiting.
“I can’t believe we’ll be living in a construction zone again so soon,” she mumbled.
Reeda grunted. “I know, it feels like we finished the renovation last week.”
“This won’t disrupt the entire place, though,” replied Kate. “We’ve decided to set up a makeshift kitchen in the storage room off the dining area. We can fit the refrigerator and dishwasher in there, and it already has a powder room with a sink. But while the construction is underway, we’ll have to reduce our offerings to a cold breakfast, and that’s about it.”
“I think guests will understand,” added Bindi.
“I hope so.” Kate sighed, and ran fingers through her hair. “Anything you’d like to add?”
Bindi studied the rough drawing, glanced around the inn, her mind running over all the things a guest might want to find at a destination like the Waratah. It was a boutique inn, which mean luxury. Once they had a restaurant and commercial kitchen, they’d be able to bring in the public, which would mean more foot traffic. However, they couldn’t house additional guests, they’d still have the same number of bedrooms.
“I think we should consider something that might make the inn feel more luxurious. I mean, the decor is beautiful, the bedrooms are stunning, especially now they each have their own bathrooms and walk in robes. We’ll have a world class restaurant… Our guests will expect luxury. What if we offered spa services?”
“Where would we put a spa?” asked Reeda, her brow furrowed. “And I’m sure there are laws about how to run something like that. I’m not saying no, it’s a good idea, but let’s think about it.”
“Or, what about a swimming pool?” added Bindi.
The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea.
“A swimming pool?” asked Kate. “But we’re right next to the beach.”
“I know, but sometimes people don’t want to swim at the beach.”
“Maybe…” Kate wasn’t convinced, Bindi could see it in her eyes.
“Look around,” replied Bindi. “The Waratah Inn has become the kind of place people visit when they want luxury, beauty, exclusivity. The kind of people who come here now, are very different to the type Nan used to welcome. They’re looking for the kind of destination they don’t have to leave. We can’t be a big resort, but we can offer some of the luxury that the bigger holiday places offer — like a spa, a swimming pool, that kind of thing. So that when our guests stay, they don’t have to go anywhere else. Everything they need is on site.”
“You make a good point,” replied Reeda, her lips pursed. “If I were to stay somewhere like this, out of the way, secluded, I’d want them to offer a restaurant, and something to do during the daylight hours other than simply a beach and some horses. We do need more…”
“So, which do you think we should start with? A pool or spa?” asked Kate.
Bindi shrugged. “I think the pool would be easier, and more appealing to a wider group.”
“I agree,” added Reeda.
“So, we’re adding a swimming pool as well?” asked Kate.
“I suppose we are.”
Mima lumbered into the sitting room. “Hello, my darlings… Bindi, there’s someone on the phone for you.”
Bindi followed Mima back to the kitchen. A swimming pool…she wasn’t even sure where that idea had come from. Picturing a pool shimmering in the inn’s back yard gave her a warm feeling inside. It was right. The perfect next step for the inn. But could they manage the construction of a pool as well as a new restaurant and commercial kitchen all at the same time?
She picked up the phone. “Hello, this is Bindi.”
“Hi Bindi, it’s Josh.”
Her heart thudded. He’d said he would call, but she’d half expected not to hear from him. After all, he knew she was sick now, she wouldn’t blame him if he kept his distance.
“Josh, how are you?”
“I’m great. How are you feeling?”
She inhaled a slow breath. “I’m okay today. Thanks for asking.”
“Listen, I’m at the station and I’m famished. I was about to eat lunch with some of my mates, then I thought I’d chance it — are you free this morning?”
Bindi sat in front of her dressing table and brushed her hair. She sighed at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was even more pale than usual, and the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks more pronounced.
There was a knock at her door, then Kate stuck her head through the gap. “Can I come in?”
Bindi nodded, smiled.
“Are you going out?”
“Yeah, Josh called - he asked me to have lunch with him.”
Kate sat beside her on the bed, grinning. “Oh? That sounds nice.”
“Don’t read anything into it,” warned Bindi. “I told him about my illness, I’m sure he’s just being nice. That’s all.” She didn’t want Kate to make a big deal of it, better she downplayed their relationship since she wasn’t even certain yet how to define it.
“You told him?” Kate’s eyes widened. “Good for you. I didn’t think you’d tell anyone but us. I think it’s healthy to get it out in the open.”
Bindi wasn’t sure that was true
. She felt exposed, vulnerable. Like telling other people somehow made it more real. And now she’d have to face it head-on.
Kate reached for her brush and began to slide it through Bindi’s hair. Bindi’s eyes filled with tears. So many times when she was a teenager, Kate had done her hair. They’d sat together in this very room at the inn, while Kate chatted to her about surfing, or boys, or whatever fight she was having with Reeda at the time.
“You okay, hon?”
“Memories…” replied Bindi, dabbing at her eyes with the back of one hand. “You always used to brush my hair this way.”
Kate’s eyes shimmered. “I remember. It was the only time I could get you to open up about anything.”
“Is that true?” Bindi cocked her head to one side. “I didn’t realise that’s why you did it.”
“Yep. I tried to keep an eye on you the best I could. I know Reeda did most of the work looking after us, but I was worried about you. You were the youngest, you suffered the most when Mum and Dad died…”
“I don’t know about that. I think we all suffered.”
“I wanted to take care of you,” Kate continued. “So, I’d come in here, grab the brush and get to work. I’d talk and talk, and eventually you’d join in and tell me what was going on in your life.”
Bindi huffed. “Wow, I never knew that. Good strategy, I guess. Is that what you’re doing now?”
Kate winked. “Maybe.”
“Well, as much as I enjoy it when you brush my hair, you can ask me anything — I’m happy to tell you about my life.”
“Good to know.” Kate continued brushing, her brow furrowed. “How are the treatments going?”
Bindi shrugged. “I don’t know, to be honest. I think they’re fine… I still have my hair. So, that’s a positive. Right?”
Kate nodded. “That is very good.”
“I’ll find out more once the treatment round is finished and my doctor runs some tests.”
“Be sure to let me know how it goes,” replied Kate.
“Of course.”
They sat in silence while Kate finished styling Bindi’s hair and Bindi applied some powder and a little blush to her cheeks to try to combat their pallor.
“I guess you’ll be going on your honeymoon soon?” asked Bindi.
“I can’t wait,” replied Kate, her eyes gleaming. “And I wanted to talk to you about Christmas… Alex and I will be coming back from the honeymoon and heading straight to Port Macquarie to spend Christmas with his family. I’ve already spoken to Mima about it, and she’s happy to continue to fill in for me in the kitchen. Reeda and Duncan are going to Sydney for the holidays, so it will be just you, Mima and Jack holding down the fort here. Are you okay with that?”
Bindi shrugged. “I guess so. I’ll miss you, but I’m sure we’ll manage.”
Kate hugged her from behind. “I’ll miss you too. I can’t imagine having Christmas without you and Reeda, but I promised Alex…he doesn’t see his parents as much as he’d like to.”
“Of course. You’re married now, we have to share you.” Bindi’s throat tightened. She hadn’t considered that her sisters might both be away for the holidays. Still, she wasn’t up to travelling anywhere herself, and she’d have Mima and Jack to share Christmas with.
Josh took her to a surf club for lunch, this time in Coolangatta. They sat at a small round table overlooking the beach from balcony seating. Josh had changed into a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. He was the picture of strength, vitality and health with his muscular arms, tanned skin, and almost glowing face. Bindi thought how much onlookers must think she contrasted with him — thin, pale, and sickly.
Still, he didn’t seem to mind. He held her hand across the table while they waited for their food and regaled her with hilarious tales of mishaps and accidents he’d witnessed during his policing career.
She found herself stepping up to his level of energy, laughing until she cried, and telling him stories from her time in journalism.
"Did you always want to join the police force?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I thought I’d be in the army, actually. But then, my dad got sick.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
He smiled. “It was a long time ago now. When we were in high school, most people were thinking about surfing, dating and what to wear to the formal — you and I had other things on our minds.”
“He was sick then?” she asked.
He nodded. “Died soon after I joined the force. I didn’t want to be gone, needed to be close by. Then, I had to help Mum through her grief, and my little sister get through high school. It was a rough time for the family, but we got through it. Now, Mum’s happy as Larry and my sister, Beatrice, is a hairdresser down in Banora Point. She’s about to get married.”
“Wow, that’s amazing. You made a sacrifice for your family…kind of the way my sisters did for me. I was the youngest, they felt like they had to take care of me…still do sometimes. It can drive me a little crazy, but I know they do it because they love me.”
He smiled. “Yeah, Bea says the same thing.”
By the time they’d finished eating, Bindi had relaxed and stopped worrying about the reason for their lunch date. Everything was out in the open; she had nothing to hide. If Josh wanted to be friends, she could manage that. She hadn’t made any friends since moving north, instead burying herself in work at the inn. It would be nice to have some local connections, people her own age to spend time with.
Josh drove her home in his police cruiser. When she climbed out of the car, he fell into step beside her.
“Want to sit on the verandah for a little while? Or do you have to get to bed?” she asked.
He grinned. “I can stay for a few more minutes. I’m used to operating on very little sleep when I’m on night shifts.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know how you do it.”
He sat beside her, rocking the chair back and forth. Then his gaze locked onto her face. “I had a really nice time with you.”
She smiled. “I did too. I’m glad we’re friends.”
“Friends?” He quirked an eyebrow.
“Yeah, friends. I don’t have many around here.”
“I’m grateful for you as well.” He reached for her hand, pulled his chair closer to hers.
She stared at their linked fingers, her heart racing. This didn’t feel like friendship. Warmth travelled through her fingers, up her arm and spread through her body. “I don’t think we should be more than friends though,” she continued, “I have a lot going on in my life right now. I’m sick, and I have to work at getting better. Besides, we’re doing more construction at the inn, I’m going to be so busy managing all of that…”
His eyes narrowed and he closed the gap between them until she could feel his breath against her lips. He studied her lips, let his eyes wander up to meet her gaze, then licked his own. “That’s too bad.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“You wanting to be friends…it’s too bad.”
“It is?”
“Yeah, I’m afraid friendship is off the table.”
Her pulse skittered. “What…?”
“I don’t want to be friends.”
Josh moved onto his knees in front of her, cupped her cheeks with his hands and pressed his lips to hers. He tasted like salt and buttered bread. His hands were firm, but gentle against her skin, his lips soft and wet. Her pulse raced into overdrive and her breath stuck in her throat. This wasn’t what she wanted, was it? She’d thought not, but now she couldn’t be so sure. His kiss dragged her under, deeper and deeper until she couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. Her eyes drifted shut and her hands wove around the back of his neck, pulling him closer and deepening their kiss.
Perhaps he was right after all. It was far too late for friendship.
17
June 1950
Casoli, Italy
Sweat beaded on Charlie’s forehead. It
trickled down his temples and formed a pathway down his spine beneath his shirt. He wiped his forehead dry with the back of his sleeve and climbed down from the house frame. He jumped the last bit, landing on his feet with a grunt.
“Ci vediamo domani,” one of the carpenters called out that he’d see Charlie tomorrow as Charlie walked off the job site, his tool belt swinging over his shoulder.
Charlie waved in response, walked to where he’d left his things by his bicycle and found his canteen. He took a long swig of water, then packed up his tools and piled it all into his backpack. He climbed onto his bike and set off through the streets of Casoli.
He loved working with his hands and becoming a carpenter had been a natural progression for him. After the war ended, he and Maria had moved out of her uncle’s place and into town. Charlie had found work almost immediately as a labourer, then did an apprenticeship as a carpenter under one of the local men who’d fought as part of the Italian resistance during the war.
It’d been hard to make ends meet, especially after their daughter, Marion, arrived. But they’d managed. By the time Stefano was born, they’d fallen into a pleasant rhythm of life. Charlie rode his bike to work each day, and Maria watched the neighbours’ children for a small fee. They led a simple life, and sometimes it was hard to make his salary stretch to cover everything they needed, but after so many years of war they were used to doing without. Life seemed positively luxurious now, by comparison.
When the road became cobblestone and began to climb the hill towards the centre of town, Charlie stood on the pedals to push his way forward. He passed stone houses, pressed up against one another, through covered archways and climbed off to walk his bike up a staircase.
When he reached their doorway, set into a wall of stone, with two flowering pots outside it, he rested his bike against the wall and pushed inside.
“I’m home!” he called.
A squeal emanated from the small kitchen in the back of the unit and small footsteps pounded across the tile floor.
“Papa!” cried a little voice as Marion flung herself at his legs. Her rosebud lips pulled into a wide grin and her four-year-old arms stretched as far around him as she could reach.
