The Christmas Key

by Phillipa Nefri Clark

  “I’d like to take another look at the shoebox the rings and letters were kept in all those years.”

  “What’s special about it?”

  “Might spark off a memory.”

  “Don’t you have it?”

  “Christie has it.”

  “She does?”

  “Asked her to keep the letters. Eventually Martha and I will want them, but there’s some... emotional stuff in them. Never felt right having them in the cottage for some reason.”

  “Ask her for them.”

  “Only want to look at the shoebox, son.”

  “I can have a look around and see if I can find it, then you come over and look to your hearts content.”

  “Thanks. I’m going to talk to George later on today. Around whiskey time.”

  “Not sure what he’d know.”

  Thomas stopped and waited for Randall to return the stick, then he threw it. “Your godfather had a soft spot for your grandmother. Reckon if things had been different, he might have pursued her himself.”

  “And this is why I stay out of other people’s business.”

  “Sorry, son. Don’t mean to upset your view of the world. But George is a gentleman and my best friend. He’d never step over that line.”

  “Well, you have your chat with him and I’ll look for the shoebox.” Martin stopped. “I might get the boy home, it’s warming up.”

  “Remember to collect your surfboard. What would you like for Christmas?”

  Martin hugged Thomas. “All of my family happy and healthy. Doesn’t get any better than this.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Out in the garden in the cool of early morning, Martha turned the soil in a new vegetable bed with a shovel. She forced it into the soft ground, then flicked it over and repeated. She’d woken to an empty house, exhausted when she finally fell into bed well after two. Thomas left a note so she imagined he’d be home in the next half hour and ready for breakfast. Until then, she needed to dig.

  At the end of Dorothy’s diary was a letter. One Dorothy penned to Martha to explain herself. Unable to bear reading it properly, she’d skimmed over the pages as she drank two glasses of brandy, eventually finding one paragraph important enough to reread. It was about Frannie.

  After her son was born, she begged me for the letters, wanting to keep them with Martha’s wedding and engagement rings. She was guilt-ridden and terrified you would find out what we did. She told me how she fooled Thomas into giving up on you...

  “Guilt-ridden my foot.” Martha sliced a large clod of soil in half. Without doubt Frannie was frightened of being caught out. There’d been no risk at all in leaving the letters with Dorothy, as once Martha left Australia, she didn’t return. Not until Dorothy died. But who would know I’d stay away so long? Frannie’s fear must have clouded common sense. If she’d had any.

  Why would Frannie believe the letters were safer with her? If Thomas found them, she’d risk him turning his back on his wife and child and seeking out his first love, regardless of her being on the other side of the world.

  This was a clue. Martha stopped digging, almost out of breath. Why had Frannie believed the letters would be in a better place with her than with Dorothy? Both women had secrets to protect so why not simply destroy the letters and sell the rings?

  “Martha? You out here?”

  “Yes, dear. Veggie garden.”

  She wanted to talk to Thomas about her thoughts. Of everyone, he was the person who knew the most of Frannie’s day-to-day life. How she ran the house. Whether she kept personal possessions locked away, even from him. Who were her friends when they were married?

  Martha tossed off her gardening gloves and rubbed her eyes. She wouldn’t speak with him. To hear of his life with her best friend... her shoulders slumped. Your own fault for leaving River’s End. Her biggest flaw was her temper. Certainly back then. Temper and stubborn pride. On more than one occasion, Tom had promised he’d help her control both once they married. Well, now they were finally married, she’d learnt to control them herself.

  “What are we planting now?” Thomas arrived with two cups of steaming coffee. “Ready for a break?”

  “Good morning. Thank you and yes. Shall we sit?”

  Thomas led the way to the bench under their favourite tree, waited until Martha sat, and joined her. “This is hot, so be careful.”

  “I’m hardly a child!” So much for controlling herself.

  “Then, there’s no need to react like one.” His voice was calm, but his eyes glinted with something Martha hadn’t seen for so very long. “Perhaps if you are over-tired, you should reconsider the late nights.”

  She leaned back against the tree, eyes never leaving his face despite the warmth creeping through her body. “I didn’t intend to sound sharp. And I’m not over-tired.”

  “Then, what’s on your mind?”

  The coffee tasted good and drinking it gave Martha time to think, and now stare into its depths. She could feel Thomas watching her. “We don’t have a present for Christie and Martin.”

  He chuckled. “And that’s why you snapped at me?”

  “Sorry. It is one of many things on my mind. Do you know what we should get them, because I’ve exhausted my ideas.”

  “A puppy. Then they can give Randall to us.”

  “Or you can get a puppy.”

  “Which will dig up your garden... although you were doing a good job of it yourself.”

  “Something for their house. Or garden.”

  “Let’s see.” Thomas put his cup onto the seat at his side and counted on his fingers. “Daphne and John gave them a greenhouse for their wedding. Angus and Elizabeth provided a gift card from the nursery in Green Bay. Barry’s gift was a voucher for when they need more fencing. Sylvia and family gave those lovely matching vases. Think we might need something less domestic.”

  “Shall we go shopping then?”

  “After breakfast. I’ll get started.”

  “We might as well book the holiday for Elizabeth and Angus whilst we’re out, as long as you still think it is okay?”

  Thomas stood, and offered a hand to Martha. “If they don’t want it, we’ll take it.” He pulled her onto her feet, and kissed her forehead. “See you inside. Follow the smell of fresh toast.”

  She watched him wander back across the grass and through the wrought iron gate, carrying their cups. Their life together was precious, more so because of the years apart. You can’t rake over the past with him. He had issues forgiving Frannie already. It would be cruel to bring up so many old memories.

  ***

  Not long after breakfast, and before he and Elizabeth could have their planned chat over a cup of tea, Angus was phoned by John Jones. He’d taken the call in his bedroom, not at all certain he wanted to hear John’s news, but there it was. The owners of the property they’d discussed would consider leasing it to Angus short term. They arranged a time to meet and now, here Angus was, waiting for his friend.

  He’d driven down the overgrown driveway to park near a garage. He sat for a while, mind darting all over as he thought through his options. Stay at Palmerston House as a paid guest as he’d been for some months. Accept Elizabeth’s request for him to stay but not as a paying guest. Or move. He had to do something, for he couldn’t bear for anyone to think poorly of the dear woman who’d become much more to him than a friend.

  Many years ago he’d been married and so happily. As had Elizabeth to her Keith. But both marriages ended with the sad loss of a partner, and they’d become accustomed to living alone. Until he’d arrived to visit Christie, and pretty much stayed ever since. There was no denying the immediate delight he and Elizabeth took in each other’s company.

  Between all the dramas this past year in River’s End, their relationship strengthened, but when he was injured by Elizabeth’s guest, Bernie Cooper, she’d blamed herself. Much as she tried to pretend everything was okay, Angus knew it still bothered her. Perhaps it was best he moved into
a place of his own for a while, so he could properly court her.

  John’s car drew up behind and Angus climbed out of his. John already looked overheated in his too-tight suit and tie. He wiped his forehead as he closed the door. “Be a warm one today.”

  They shook hands. “Think we might have a storm later.”

  “As long as it cools things down. Right, let’s have a look through.” John led Angus to the front of the house and up several steps. “Been for sale for a couple of years. I cleaned it up a bit after Bernie Cooper camped out here. Crushed, empty water bottles all over the place.” He unlocked the door and pushed it open for Angus to go through. “Warn you though, it isn’t Palmerston House.”

  Stale air was replaced by the unpleasant stench of wet carpet as Angus stepped into a dark hallway and almost put his foot straight into a hole in the floorboards.

  John grabbed his arm. “Whoops, steady on.” He took his phone out and found its torch app, shining it around. There was rotting further along, and the first room showed signs of water damage. “Owners won’t spend anything on it. Roof must be full of holes. Sorry, Angus, this isn’t even habitable.”

  Back in the sunshine, door locked, John shook his head. “I’ll keep looking for you.”

  “Thank you, John.”

  They returned to the cars. “Not my business, but I’m surprised Elizabeth is okay with you moving out. Not as though there isn’t plenty of room there.”

  “I’ve yet to mention it to her.”

  “She’ll find out on her own if you look at enough places. Small town talk and all that. Might hurt her feelings.”

  Angus agreed. As John backed down the driveway, he formulated the conversation they needed to have. It would start with a declaration of his love, and then how deeply he respected her. From there, he knew they’d talk through any concerns she might have. He put his hand on the car door.

  There was sound near the garage. A rustle. There was no breeze, so it must be a rabbit or the like. But then, a whimper. Head tilted to listen, Angus watched the bushes. A few branches moved, and a black nose poked out, sniffed the air, and then retreated.

  “It is quite safe to show yourself.” Nothing. “Very well, if you’re hungry, I can arrange some food, but you need to come out.”

  Back at the car, he opened the front passenger door. In the glove box was an unopened packet of plain biscuits. A leftover of his last long drive several months ago.

  The moment he opened the packet near the front of the car, the nose reappeared through the branches. “Probably not an ideal offering, but I’d like to meet you.” He placed a biscuit on the ground and stepped back.

  Like a black streak, a dog raced over, picked up the biscuit, and returned to the bushes. Once the sound of crunching stopped, Angus took a second biscuit but this time, held it out. “Come on, I like dogs.”

  Hesitant at first, the dog crept toward Angus, eyes flicking between his face and the biscuit. When the dog would take the whole thing, Angus held on, letting the dog chew pieces off. Last morsel devoured, the dog backed off, but with an expression of hope.

  “How long since you’ve eaten?” The dog was a kelpie, bred to work sheep. This one was thin, his ribs obvious beneath a dirty coat. “You may have one more, then perhaps you’ll join me in the car and we can get you a proper meal.” The dog’s ears pricked up and down, then the very tip of his tail wagged as Angus offered another biscuit. There was a tag on the dog’s collar with the name ‘Jag’ on it.

  “Jag. Is this you?”

  The dog sat, his tail thumping the ground.

  Angus opened the passenger door. “Well, Jag, would you care to jump in?”

  ***

  An hour after Angus returned – with a scrawny, hungry dog in tow – Elizabeth was as on edge as she could ever remember. Jag was well mannered and waited with wide eyes as she found some meat scraps and a bowl whilst Angus filled the water bucket they kept for Randall’s visits. He’d eaten quickly, run outside briefly and returned with an expectant glance at the fridge that made her laugh. With no more food forthcoming, he’d curled up under the kitchen table and slept.

  “Is there a phone number on the tag?” she’d asked as she made a fresh pot of tea. The one she’d prepared much earlier this morning went cold when Angus suddenly left after a phone call.

  “There is, but the number is disconnected. I hate the thought of him going to the pound though.”

  “Well, I’m sure if we let Trev know the phone number he can chase it up rather than call a ranger. Jag is quite safe here for the moment.”

  “How kind-hearted you are, Elizabeth.” Angus took teacups from the cupboard.

  I don’t feel it. No, she felt as though something important was out of her reach.

  Until the other day when Belinda and George visited to play Scrabble, her world was almost perfect. Christmas was near and she couldn’t wait to give Angus the gift she’d found for him. In the moments at night as she fell asleep, her mind often drifted to what might be. A proposal. Another marriage to another wonderful man. How could one woman be so blessed in love?

  But, as she’d returned to the living room, Angus words drifted out. “I shall move out as soon as possible.” She’d stopped in her tracks, unable to comprehend what he meant. When she’d pulled herself together enough to follow Belinda in, he’d smiled and taken her hand as though nothing had happened.

  “Where would you like your tea? Here, or by the pond?”

  “Oh. Here is fine, Angus.”

  Last night he’d wined and dined her with no mention of his plan to leave. Her request for him to stay as a non-paying guest remained unanswered. The phone call this morning sent him to his room, then off in his car with almost no explanation. Now, her hands shook as she poured tea.

  They sat at one corner of the kitchen table, Jag still asleep. He needed a bath, his coat was so dirty and he smelt as though he’d been neglected for a long time. But he was content and could wait a little longer.

  “The tea is lovely, just the way I like it.” Angus smiled over his teacup.

  Elizabeth barely tasted it. Any moment he would tell her the past months being so close were in her imagination. Tension coiled inside her and she put her cup down.

  Angus didn’t seem to notice. “I did enjoy dinner last night. And I have thought about your sweet offer for me to stay without payment.”

  Underneath the table, Elizabeth curled her hands into balls. “I... I meant it, Angus.”

  “Thank you, dear lady. But it wouldn’t be right for me to take such advantage of you.”

  Jag stirred, touching Elizabeth’s feet. “Where did you find him? The dog?”

  “Just outside town.”

  “On the road?”

  He shook his head. “Actually, no. At the property for sale. The one that’s been on the market for so long.”

  She could barely force the words out. “Why were you there?”

  “I should have spoken sooner. Elizabeth, please don’t misunderstand my motives, but I think it is prudent for me to find my own place.”

  “You’re not happy here.”

  “Elizabeth, quite the—” His phone rang. He pulled it from a pocket to reject the call and Elizabeth saw it was John Jones. She stood. “Please, let’s talk about this.” Angus held out his hand.

  With a shake of her head, she picked up her teacup and walked to the sink.

  “Elizabeth.”

  “Call John back. I’m sure it is important.”

  She felt Angus behind her. Don’t touch me. Please, please don’t make this harder. “Tell him you’ll take it, if it’s what you want.”

  “I’d like to explain myself. Can we sit?”

  “No. You pack, dear. I understand completely. And it is for the best.” Without a backward glance, she stumbled from the kitchen and to the back door. Angus called her name, but she had to keep going. Before he saw the silly tears or she made a real fool of herself by begging him to reconsider.

&nbs
p; ***

  Christie and Martin wandered hand in hand along the tide line. Ahead, Randall rolled in an interesting smell, his legs kicking the air and satisfied grunts coming from his throat. Out along the horizon, storm clouds built and a warm wind stirred up the waves.

  “I’m so proud of how well the salon is going, but being selfish, I’m also very happy to have you to myself unexpectedly.” Martin lifted her hand to his lips. “Pity about the storm, or we could have sailed.”

  “This is nice though. I am a bit concerned about Elizabeth though.”

  “For cancelling her appointment with you?”

  “Belinda took the call and said she sounded strange.”

  “Belinda is prone to exaggeration.”

  They passed Randall, who leapt up and shook sand everywhere. Further along, the jetty was under siege from increasing waves, and they stopped to watch.

  “There’s something beautiful in the power of those waves.” Martin put his arm around Christie’s shoulders. “No wonder Thomas loves painting them.”

  “Well, the jetty has a lot to answer for. Bringing Thomas and Martha together and then almost killing her when she slipped off it.”

  “She shouldn’t have been on it during a storm.”

  “Well, thank goodness Thomas went in after her. How frightening for them both.”

  “And for you, sweetheart, when you tied up Jasmine Sea here to look for me.”

  “Actually, tying her up was a relief. I thought the nightmare was over. It was when I came back and Derek tried to get back on board...”

  Martin turned Christie in his arms and tilted her chin up. “The best memory I have is proposing to you, right on the end of the jetty.” She relaxed against him. “Even though you stormed off at one point.”

  “Sorry. Ryan family temper.”

  “I’ve never seen Martha show it.”

  “It’s there. Our wild Irish heritage.”

  He kissed her, then glanced at the sky. “Storm’s getting close. Let’s go home.”

  Randall trotted behind them as they climbed the narrow track up the cliff. At the top, they watched the black clouds rolling in, lightning flashing within their laden forms. The wind picked up, swirling Christie’s hair around. “I might phone Belinda and tell her just to lock up when she’s done and go home. I’ll clean in the morning.”