The Kotahi Bay Quartet

by J. C. Hart

  "Hey, Kels. I'm just hanging out I guess."

  "I thought you'd be back by now, what's happening?"

  "Well, it turns out I inherited a house. So, I think I'm going to stay here for a bit. See what life is like in the Bay."

  "Seriously? You're kidding me right? You belong here in the city."

  "Gran left me the place though, I think I should give it a chance. Why don't you come down? Help me sort stuff out."

  "I don't know, Lysie. Not really my scene."

  "Please? Do it for me. I promise there will be alcohol involved."

  "Alcohol? Okay, sure, I guess I could come for a couple of days." Kelly laughed. "You always know how to persuade me. I've got work tomorrow. Text me the details and I'll cruise down after."

  "Sweet, thanks Kelly. I could really do with the company. It's kind of weird being here after so long away."

  "No worries chick, that's what friends are for, right?"

  "Drinking with?" Alyssa laughed.

  "Yeah. I'll let you get back to small town life, chick, catch you tomorrow night!"

  "Bye Kels."

  Alyssa slid the phone back into her pocket and grinned. Kelly would make the place feel more like home, and if she invested in enough alcohol, maybe some painting would get done.

  Chapter Five

  Dinner was fish and chips on the back porch with a glass of cask wine. Pure class. The sun was still high and it was warm enough to swim even this late in the day if she'd had the urge to go the few blocks to the sea. But she didn't. Apart from the funeral, and a few trips to the local shops, she hadn't ventured out to see any of the sights of Kotahi Bay. All of her memories here were over a decade old and she wasn't prepared to make new ones until she'd decided whether to stick around or not.

  On the one hand, it was a small town in the middle of nowhere, away from her friends and family. Her mother would probably never speak to her again if she decided to live in Gran's house—though she hadn't decided whether that was a pro or con—and her social life would no doubt die a quick, painless death.

  On the other, she'd spent the last two years working in movie rentals, scraping to get by, and this was an opportunity to break out from that. She'd need to work to live, of course, but a life without rent sounded pretty sweet right now, and the Bay had always been nice. It could be a good place to find that line between other people's hopes for her, and what she really wanted for herself. Not to mention that she would never accidentally bump into her ex—Grant—again.

  She wrapped up her leftovers, tossing the fish on the lawn for Buttons, and sculled the last of her wine. It wasn't very good, but she was used to drinking cheap alcohol. Kelly though, she wouldn't stand for it. Alyssa would have to see if Gran had any top shelf booze stashed around the house, or dig into Gran's savings for a new bottle of something.

  As the sun began to dip in the sky Alyssa chucked the rubbish in the outside bin and went back into the house. Buttons escaped through the cat flap just moments after she closed the door, probably heading for the fish. A chill swept over her and she shivered as she refilled the glass. Her breath misted in the air, her eyes widened. "What the hell…"

  Gran didn't have air conditioning, so there was no reason for this sudden influx of cold air. Alyssa rushed through to the lounge and grabbed the blanket off the couch, swinging it around her shoulders as she moved through the house.

  All the windows were shut, so where was that breeze coming from? She went up to the bedroom and checked the window there but it was closed too. She watched the back yard, remembering her visitor from that first night, but there was no-one. Her breath fogged the glass, well, some of it.

  Alyssa stumbled back as she realised that the shape of a large hand was imprinted on the window in front of her. She dropped her wine glass and it shattered on the wooden floor.

  "Whoa," she said, stepping back. Her feet were bare and despite her best attempts to avoid it, a sliver of glass cut into her skin. "Shit!" Her eyes flicked from the blood oozing onto the wood to the hand print still visible on the window.

  "Maybe I touched it before. My hands are greasy from the chips… Yeah, that's it," Alyssa told herself, though her heart thudded and she knew that it was a lie. She just didn't want to think of the alternative, and she certainly didn't want to let on to any potential ghost that she might be afraid. "Better get this cleaned up."

  She winced as she hopped through to the bathroom, dragging Gran's first aid kit out and removing the glass to wash down the sink. She wrapped a bandage around it even though the wound had all but stopped bleeding, and then she found some shoes, downed another glass of wine, and headed back to the bedroom with the dustpan and vacuum cleaner.

  Apparently, the only thing worse than glass on the floor, was having a ghost in the house. Despite the tremor in her hands, she had it cleaned up in no time. Alyssa grabbed an extra blanket from the bedroom, and her replacement glass of wine, then parked up on the couch.

  There was nothing interesting to watch, but that didn't matter, any mindless drivel would do, anything to make it seem like she was carrying on as normal. She found a channel showing highlights from the Christmas in the Park concert, turned it up loud and let the cheery carols flood the lounge.

  Nothing to see here…

  Chapter Six

  Her head pounded in time to the knocking on the door. Alyssa pushed herself up from the couch and dragged a hand through her hair. "I think I'm done with cask wine," she muttered to herself as she dumped the blanket on the couch and headed for the door. Buttons gave a little mewl at being so unceremoniously disturbed. Shit, she hadn't even got into her PJs last night. It was all a little blurry after the fifth glass of wine.

  The knock came again.

  "Yeah, I'm coming already!" She dragged the door open to be greeted by a blaze of sunshine and a matching grin from Angie. "Ah, hi."

  "I thought I'd bring you some muffins and see how you're fitting in here. Everything going okay?" Once again the older woman pushed through the door and made her way to the kitchen like it was her house or something. Buttons hissed at her and took off out the cat door. Alyssa kind of wished she could do the same, it was far too early and her headache was company enough.

  "Sure, why don't you come on in and make yourself at home?" Alyssa muttered. Angie pulled up short, a frown flashing across her face, quickly replaced by that smile again.

  "I'm sorry dear. Old habits die hard. I've spent a lot of time in this house, and it feels like a second home. You know how it is."

  Actually, she didn't. But she wasn't going to admit that to this woman. Alyssa moved in front of Angela and led the way into the kitchen. She made herself a coffee and sighed as she sipped it. Angie sat at the table, clacking her fingernails against the wood.

  "Would you mind not doing that? I've got a killer headache." Alyssa grimaced.

  "Sorry dear. Rough night?"

  "Something like that. Do you want a cuppa?"

  "That would be lovely, my mug is the green one with roses on it. I'll have the stuff in that blue tin, no sugar, a splash of milk. It will go beautifully with my baking."

  "It was kind of you to bring some over," Alyssa said, though it would have been kinder had it not been so early in the goddamn morning. She tried to push off her foul mood; it wasn't Angie's fault that Alyssa had got so drunk last night. She found some paracetamol and took a couple while Angie's tea steeped, and then returned to the table with their steaming mugs.

  "So how are you finding the house? Not too many bumps in the night?" Angie asked.

  Alyssa tugged on her earlobe, unsure how to answer the question. The way Angie had said it, seemed like she knew about the ghost, like maybe she expected Alyssa to admit to something. So naturally, there was no way she was going to.

  "Been sleeping like a baby for the most part. It's funny, I've spent so many years away from here, but it feels just like home." She gave a beatific smile and nabbed a muffin from the basket, breaking a chunk off and popping i
t into her mouth. "Wow, these are really good. They'd give Gran's a run for her money."

  "Well, she was known for other things, may she rest in peace. I was always a better baker than her." Angie gave a little sniff and sipped at her tea.

  "So what can I do for you?" Alyssa asked, swallowing the urge to ask whether she'd only come to insult her dead grandmother. She felt guilty enough for not being there for Gran without Angie making it worse.

  "Nothing, nothing at all. I just wanted to make sure that you were settling in okay, or are you finding small town life not quite as exciting as where you came from?" Angie's tongue flicked across her bottom lip and the sight put Alyssa on edge. She couldn't shake the feeling that there was something off about the woman.

  "Oh, you know, it's got its charms. I'm sure I'll adapt in no time." She shrugged, keeping her tone light, though she couldn't ignore the way her skin prickled. "Gran obviously thought it was the right place for me, so I'm willing to give it a shot."

  "That's very sweet of you." Angie leaned over and patted Alyssa's hand. "But just know that no one will judge you if you decide to head back to the city, and I'm sure you'd find a buyer for the house in no time. Property doesn't come on the market here all that often."

  Alyssa drew her hand away, wrapping it around her quickly cooling coffee. "That won't be necessary. I'm pretty sure I'm here to stay." Her eye twitched in irritation. She meant the words, well at least she thought so, but she had the feeling that Angela was going to use every opportunity to suggest that she leave town. It was time to do a little prying of her own. "So how long were you and Gran friends for?"

  Angie sipped her tea slowly before replying. "For many years we were very good friends," she said, sounding more sincere than Alyssa thought her capable of. "Very good, very close. But, as she got older and sicker, towards the end, she pushed me away. These last weeks in particular, she wouldn't see me at all." She took another sip, then glanced at Alyssa, her eyes wet with tears. "I was very upset when she passed, though I know she was in a lot of pain."

  "I wish I'd known…" Alyssa's regret hit her hard. "She was a stubborn one. I think she probably went out the way she wanted to—without much drama."

  "You might have been gone for years, but you knew your grandmother well it seems." Angie gave a soft smile.

  Perhaps she had been too harsh in judging her before. Angie's airs were probably part of her defence mechanism, affected to keep the grief at bay. "Is there a token, something in the house you want to take to remember her by?" Alyssa asked suddenly.

  "Really? That would be okay?" Angie pressed a hand to her heart. "That would be… well, it would be wonderful. Thank you. Let me have a little think."

  "Of course, take your time. It's not like this stuff is going far." Only to the garage for storage. "I've been cleaning out a few things anyway. If I'm going to be sticking around I might as well update the décor a bit."

  "No, you can't do that!" Angie was aghast. "I mean, it's got so much history. Do you really think Connie would have wanted you changing things?"

  "She always told me that I had to find my own way. To listen to my heart. So, I'm going to. I'm sorry if you find that upsetting, but I know that Gran would want me to make the place my own." Alyssa crossed to the sink and dumped her now lukewarm coffee out, rinsing the cup before setting it to the side for later. "I don't mean to be harsh, but you need to accept that she's gone. I'm not going to replace her. I can't. I just have to be me."

  Angie set her cup down and nodded. "I'm sorry if I came off…protective, defensive. It's just that I have so many memories here."

  "Those memories aren't going to disappear just because I change the colour of the walls though, right? And you're taking a piece of the place, the history, home with you. Have you figured out what you want?"

  "Well, there were a few things, if that's okay. I've always loved the painting in her bedroom, the one with the flowers, and there was a box on the mantle, next to the photo of us."

  "I packed up most of the lounge the other day so the boxes are in the shed. Give me a minute and I'll grab the painting. Why don't you check the lounge just in case I missed it?" Alyssa strode from the kitchen and grabbed the painting off the bedroom wall before rushing back out again. Maybe tonight she would try and sleep there, or maybe she'd let Kelly… Either way, she wasn't keen to spend more time in it just yet.

  "Here," she said, handing the painting to Angie. "Did you find the box?"

  "No, it wasn't there."

  "Hmm, must be in the garage."

  "Are you sure it's not a bother? I can come back another day. I'm sure you're busy."

  "No, no it's fine. Let's get to it!" Alyssa put on her best chirpy voice and grabbed the key for the shed.

  It was already warm inside the building, warm and dry and dusty despite her movements in here yesterday. She packed like she played Tetris—cleverly. There were boxes inside cupboards, and on top of furniture. This didn't exactly make the task ahead of them an easy one.

  "I tell you what, I'll pass you the boxes and you can stack them outside, then we'll go through them together, okay?"

  "You really wasted no time, did you," Angie commented, a trace of bitterness seeping into her words.

  "No. I tend to just get stuck into things." Alyssa wrinkled her nose, regretting her hurry now. Too late to change it though. She grabbed the first box and passed it to Angie.

  "You didn't think to label the boxes as you went?"

  "Nope." She wasn't going to keep explaining herself to this woman, so she stopped talking and got on with the job. It didn't take too long before all the boxes were laid out on the driveway. "Right, where should we start?" But before she had even finished the sentence Angie was digging in the first box. "I guess I'll take this one then…"

  "It's a wooden box, and it's got carvings along the side. It's inlaid with shell, and metal on the top, bronze I think." Angie was intently filtering through the items in her box, discarding it when she didn't find what she was looking for.

  Alyssa's search was less fervent, and she only managed to get through two boxes to Angie's six. "Did you find it?" the other woman asked, dragging those boxes toward her.

  "No, it's not in here. I remember seeing it, but I can't for the life of me remember where I put it. I was sure it was here." She frowned and tugged at her earlobe. "Sorry. I'm sure it'll show up, and now that I know what to look for I'll be sure to let you know as soon as it surfaces. Here though, I did find the photo."

  "Thank you." The woman took it, her eyes still flicking over the boxes. "Do call me, please." Angie glanced at Alyssa, the intensity in her eyes was disturbing. Perhaps the item wasn't as randomly selected as the woman had made out.

  "I will." Alyssa nodded and began packing the items back into the box.

  "Thank you. Look, I need to be somewhere, so I'll leave you to it. I hope you enjoy the rest of the muffins." Angie dusted off her pants and headed back to the house, leaving Alyssa frowning at her retreating form.

  "What the hell?" she muttered. "Sure, come into my house, make me get everything out of the shed and then leave me to pack it all back up. Thanks for the freaking muffins!"

  It took her twice as long to put it all back, and it was nowhere near as tidy. She just didn't have the energy for it. Another coffee was in order, and one of those muffins. And then maybe a trip to the paint store, because like hell she was leaving the walls the way they were now.

  Alyssa didn't know what it was, but something about Angela didn't add up. She seemed to flip from being genuine to completely false in an instant, and she certainly had her own agenda—Alyssa just hadn't worked out what it was yet. She wasn't going to trust that woman any time soon. Not with anything important, anyway.

  When her belly was full and the coffee had hit her brain, Alyssa headed into town. Checking the clock she could see it would only be a few more hours until Kelly hit the road and headed her way. So exciting! She couldn't wait to have her flatmate there to fill some of
the empty places in the house and remind her of home. And in the meantime she was going to get busy. Very busy.

  Chapter Seven

  When she returned to the house, laden with paint and supplies, she dumped them all on the lounge floor and surveyed the room. This was going to be where she spent the most time, so it was important to get it right. Currently it was a faded yellow. Oh how she hated yellow paint. It was the most hideous thing in the whole world and she was going to abolish it with a warm white and a feature wall of vibrant teal-blue around the fireplace.

  She took down the remaining pictures and dusted the sills with a cloth before heading to the mantle with some painters tape.

  And there was the box, the one that Angie wanted. Alyssa lifted it carefully and turned it over in her hands. It was cool to the touch, and she could now vividly remember placing it in a box along with the rest of the stuff. So how the hell had it found its way back here?

  Freaking weird. Maybe the ghost had been playing tricks on her? She shrugged it off as best she could and she took it into the kitchen with the rest of the stuff and left it on the table there. She would have to find Angie later and let her know it had turned up. At least that was one less thing to think about. It could do all the disappearing tricks it wanted in Angie's house.

  And now, to paint. There was nothing more rewarding than making something your own, not that she'd had much experience of that, having moved too many times to count and never having owned a place. She did however remember that time her mother had let her pick the paint colour for her bedroom, just after she'd banned her from seeing Gran. Alyssa had chosen black, everywhere, with glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. Her mother had frowned and folded her arms, but let her go ahead with it. Small price to pay, apparently.

  The preparation felt like it took longer than the actual painting, but before too long she had the base coat of white, eradicating that sickly yellow hue, banishing it to bygone years. The whole space seemed bigger, cleaner, brighter. For the first time since arriving, joy overwhelmed grief.