The Quarantine Station

by Michelle Montebello

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  He filled a glass from a jug on the table and handed it to her.

  She took a large gulp. ‘What time is it?’

  Thomas sat on the bed beside her. ‘It’s two o’clock. I usually come up here for my lunch. I wasn’t expecting to find a parlourmaid sleeping on my floor.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make myself at home.’

  ‘It’s quite all right. You could have slept on the bed though.’

  She smiled.

  ‘Are you certain you’re okay, Rose?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You would tell me if something bad happened, wouldn’t you?’

  Rose looked down at the glass in her hand and tears filled her eyes. Thomas wrapped his arms around her and she burrowed into him, a vastly different feeling to being pinned beneath the weight of the duke.

  Thomas soothed her, made her feel safe. She could have sat there forever in that lovely warm cottage in his arms.

  ‘I won’t make you tell me if you don’t want to,’ he said, kissing the top of her head.

  ‘I don’t want to,’ she whispered.

  ‘Okay.’

  It was sometime later when he let her go and climbed to his feet. He made them each a sandwich and cut up an orange to share and once finished, he kissed her gently on the cheek. ‘I have to go. I have some jobs to finish around the shower blocks then I’ll come back.’

  ‘I’ll wait for you.’

  He turned the covers down on the bed and fluffed up the pillow. ‘Rest and I’ll see you soon.’

  She climbed under them and curled up into his pillow. It smelt exactly of Thomas―of sandalwood and soap. He kissed her lips so tenderly she barely felt it, then let the door close behind him.

  She didn’t sleep, but laid there, warm beneath the blankets, breathing him in. As the light in the room changed and prisms of afternoon sun patterned the walls, she collected an apple from the table and let herself out to eat by the cliff.

  It was different there by day, though equally as peaceful. White-breasted woodswallows and fairy-wrens regaled her with a chorus in the trees, and an aloof echidna idled by, searching for ants. It felt like a world away from the duke and his roving hands pushing her uniform up.

  Thomas returned at five o’clock with freshly-baked bread, cheese, grapes and a bottle of gin. ‘I found Bessie by the kitchen. I told her that I saw you walking up to the hospital with a migraine. She said she would inform Miss Dalton so that someone could cover the duke’s service. That should take care of them all for a while.’

  Rose lit the oil lamp as sunlight dwindled. ‘Thank you. I was starting to worry how I was going to explain my absence.’

  ‘I also told Bessie that I’d skipped lunch. Mrs March was in the dining room, so she made me up a bundle.’

  ‘The bread smells delicious.’

  Thomas placed the food down on the table and stood before her, touching her cheek. ‘I could get used to this, you know. Coming home to you every afternoon. Waking up beside you every morning.’ He blushed at his choice of words. ‘I mean…’

  ‘I could get used to it too.’ She nestled against his touch.

  ‘Have you been enjoying your diaries?’

  ‘More than anything!’ Rose said. ‘I write in them all the time. I’ve almost finished the next one. You’ll have to tell me where you purchase them from. I couldn’t possibly have you buy them at the rate I’m going through them.’

  ‘I would buy you a lifetime supply if it made you happy.’

  She lowered her eyelids and smiled. ‘A lifetime with you would make me happy.’ She wondered if his heart was bursting like hers was.

  ‘Are you feeling better?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you still not going to tell me what frightened you earlier?’

  She turned away from him, lest he see it written across her face.

  ‘I won’t push you to tell me. I’m just glad you came.’ He turned her face back to him and bent to kiss her. She responded in a way that surprised her and that she wasn’t sure she was capable of after the events of the day. But with Thomas, it felt different. Everything felt different.

  His hand drifted from her cheek to her collarbone and when he sucked in his breath, she pulled from him.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.

  ‘We should stop, before I can’t stop.’

  ‘I don’t want to stop,’ she said. She pulled him to her again and his lips met hers.

  They kissed for a long time, their hands exploring each other’s bodies. Eventually, their kisses grew urgent and they stumbled backward towards the bed. Rose could feel that Thomas wanted her and she wanted him too.

  ‘Is this your first time?’ he whispered.

  She nodded.

  ‘Are you sure you’re ready?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  He kissed her again. It felt like feathers on her lips.

  ‘Will it hurt much?’ she asked.

  ‘It might at the start. I’ll be as gentle as I can.’

  She closed her eyes and melded into him. He untied the back of her apron and lifted it above her head. Next he flicked the buttons at the top of her uniform and she slid that and her petticoat down her body so that she was standing in only her corset and stockings.

  ‘Shall I unlace you?’

  She nodded and turned around. He untied the ribbon at the bottom, strips of whalebone relenting as he tugged on the threads and she let out a breath, feeling her chest and stomach release. He pulled the corset free and dipped his head to kiss the bare skin on her shoulder. She shivered.

  He reached above his head and pulled his shirt off while she rolled her stockings down. Their movements were slow and measured. Thomas was incredibly gentle with her.

  Standing naked with their eyes sweeping over each other, Thomas reached for her hand and helped her onto the bed. ‘You are so beautiful, Rose. You have skin like satin.’

  She blushed in her vulnerability. ‘Thomas?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Is this your first time too?’

  ‘No, Rose, it’s not my first time. But it is with someone I love.’

  Her heart soared at the way he said it. With someone I love…

  And she let him take her, wholly, unreservedly, breaking every rule possible, there on the bed in his little cottage.

  Emma

  Present

  The call came after midnight.

  It was the shrill ring of the house phone that woke her, not her mobile, for Emma had placed that down somewhere days ago and couldn’t remember where. She sat up in bed, rubbed her eyes and checked the clock beside her bed—twelve-forty am.

  Her stomach flipped unpleasantly. Calls that came after midnight could only mean one thing and it was never good. She kicked the covers back, hurried out of bed and into the kitchen, snapping up the house phone.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Is this Mrs Wilcott?’

  ‘It’s Ms Wilcott. Who is this?’ But Emma recognised the voice instantly.

  ‘It’s Anastasia Thornbury from Eastgardens Aged Care. I’m sorry to bother you so late. Actually, I’ve been calling your mobile for the past forty minutes with no luck. I found this number on our file and thought I’d give it a try.’

  ‘I lost my mobile a few days ago. I’m not sure where it is. Is my grandmother okay?’

  ‘Mrs Wilcott, she’s gone wandering again.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The night nurse last checked on her at ten-thirty pm. When he walked past her room again just before midnight, he saw her door open and her bed empty. We’ve called the Mascot Police Station and they’ve assembled a search team.’

  Emma closed her eyes and rested her head against the wall. When she opened them again, she was still standing in the kitchen in her pyjamas, the cordless house phone to her ear, listening to Anastasia Thornbury tell her yet again that her grandmother had gone missing from right under their watch.

&nb
sp; ‘Mrs Wilcott, are you still there?’

  ‘I’m here.’

  ‘Can you come down to the facility?’

  ‘Of course. I’ll be right there.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Wilcott.’

  Emma didn’t bother correcting her.

  Back in her bedroom, she struggled against exhaustion as she pulled on jeans and a jumper and ran a brush through her hair. Grabbing her bag from the lounge, she rushed to the door and flung it open, slamming straight into Matt.

  ‘Oh God!’ she exclaimed, startled. ‘You frightened the hell out of me.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he said.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  He held up her mobile. ‘Rebecca from the museum came to find me yesterday. She said you left this at the tour desk a few days ago. I was going to drop it in your letterbox tomorrow, but then I saw the calls coming through from the nursing home.’ He handed the phone to her. ‘I thought you’d want to know about them now.’

  She took the phone from him. ‘You drove all the way here at one in the morning to bring me my phone?’

  ‘The calls looked urgent.’

  She smiled. ‘Thank you. They were.’

  ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘My grandmother's gone missing again. I need to get over there now.’

  ‘I’ll drive you.’

  She locked her apartment door. ‘You don’t have to do that.’

  ‘I want to.’

  She had no time to think about the way they’d ended things, how disappointed he’d been with her and if this meant, in some small way, that she’d been forgiven. She could only relent, conscious of time.

  They hurried out to his car and climbed in. He guided them onto Anzac Parade and swiftly into Eastgardens, turning into the quiet tree-lined street of the aged care facility. It was a mild September evening. Winter had come and gone and a gentle breeze blew through the new leaves of the ancient maples above.

  They crossed the street and pushed through the glass front doors. Anastasia was waiting for Emma in the foyer and strode to greet her. As always, she looked as though she’d glided out of bed perfectly coiffed. She wore a dusty pink Chanel dress with a matching jacket and large pearl earrings. Her bobbed hair was sleek and glossy, unlike Emma’s hair, which hung in hurriedly-brushed strands around her face.

  ‘So good of you to come quickly, Mrs Wilcott,’ Anastasia said, thrusting out her hand and shaking Emma’s. ‘Is this your husband?’

  Emma caught the slight stiffening of Matt’s spine. ‘I’m no longer married. This is my friend, Matt.’

  Anastasia was already walking away. ‘Let’s talk in my office.’

  They reached her office and once seated, she offered them water, tea and coffee. They declined.

  ‘Have they found my grandmother?’ Emma asked.

  ‘Not yet, Mrs Wilcott.’

  ‘How did this happen again?’

  ‘Well, as I mentioned on the phone, the night nurse did his rounds and Gwendoline was in her bed seemingly asleep at ten-thirty pm. Closer to midnight, he walked past her room again, noticed her door open and her bed empty. He raised the alarm straight away. He’s terribly upset over the matter.’

  ‘He’s upset? What about my grandmother who’s missing again? How is she able to wander out without anyone noticing?’

  Anastasia’s bright red lips curled. ‘I’m sure we can all agree, Mrs Wilcott, that your grandmother can be as slippery as an eel when she wants to be.’

  Emma’s jaw clenched. ‘Where are they searching? Are they checking the ports and bays? She seems to be drawn to the water each time.’

  ‘I’m sure they are. We have an ambulance on standby ready to go to her once she’s found.’

  ‘It’s almost one-thirty in the morning. She’s been out there for two hours already, if not more.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s fair to blame the police now,’ Anastasia said coolly. ‘They’re doing everything they can.’

  ‘It’s not the police I’m blaming.’

  Anastasia scoffed. ‘As I said before, Mrs Wilcott, your grandmother can be as slippery as an eel.’

  ‘My grandmother is a hundred years old, Ms Thornbury,’ Emma snapped. ‘She’s not as slippery as an eel or as cunning as a cat. She’s an old lady with an ailing mind and she’s in your care. And time and time again, despite the money I pour into this place, you let her walk right out the front door!’

  Matt touched her arm. ‘Em.’

  ‘No! This is not the first time they’ve let her do this and I doubt it will be the last. Every time it happens they blame her, they blame me, they blame everyone but themselves.’ Emma stood. ‘If you let my grandmother walk out of here one more time, Ms Thornbury, I’ll relocate her, then I’ll make sure everyone knows exactly what kind of establishment you run.’

  Anastasia’s hand flew to her chest.

  ‘And one more thing,’ Emma said. ‘My name is Ms Wilcott, not Mrs Wilcott. I’m not sure how many times I have to tell you that. Have the courtesy to address me properly.’

  She stalked out of the office.

  Matt found Emma sitting out the front on a garden bench. He lowered himself beside her and reached for her hand. ‘You’re trembling.’

  ‘I’m so bloody angry!’

  ‘I can tell.’

  She looked at him and despite how furious she was, they burst out laughing. ‘I’m sorry you had to see that.’

  ‘It’s all right,’ he said. ‘She needed to hear it.’

  Emma let out a breath. ‘She is just so frustrating to deal with. For years my grandmother has been wandering and for years I’ve let that wretched woman blame her for it. Gran doesn’t hatch escape plans. She wanders because her mind is failing.’

  ‘Are you really going to move Gwendoline from here?’ He hadn’t let go of her hand and Emma didn’t want him to.

  ‘I’d prefer not to. She’s settled and a big move like that could be disruptive. But if this facility can’t find a way to keep one elderly lady from going on midnight walks, then I’ll have to. I don’t even know if she’ll come home tonight.’ The words caught in her throat.

  Matt squeezed her hand. ‘She’ll come home.’

  ‘I thought telling her about Rose and her life on the station was helping. And maybe it was for a while. She seemed to settle, she wasn’t wandering. I’m not sure what went wrong.’

  ‘She has dementia, Em. Like you said, her mind is failing. The diaries were never going to be the one thing that stopped her. This place needs to do their part too. It won’t be the last time Gwendoline chases her memories.’

  Despite all that had happened between them, Emma was grateful he was there. She leant her head against his shoulder, exhausted and worried. He stroked her hair with his free hand.

  They stayed like that for a while, enough time for Emma’s tears to come and go, for her to doze briefly and wake again, for dawn to kiss the sky and for Matt to tell her that he was glad he’d come.

  At five am, Anastasia came out to tell them they could sit in her office but Matt declined and Emma was so overcome with anxiety she couldn’t speak. There was still no word from the police and at seven am, with the sun winking over Sydney, Emma went in search of a bathroom.

  She was at the front doors when Anastasia came hurrying out. ‘They’ve found her!’

  Emma’s knees went weak. ‘Where?’

  ‘Port Botany. She must have walked over an hour to get there. They found her sitting on the edge of the wharf at Bumbora Point, just staring out. She told them she was waiting for the boat.’

  Emma and Matt exchanged a glance.

  ‘The ambulance is with her now. Soon they’ll transport her to Prince of Wales Hospital.’

  ‘Is she injured?’

  ‘I don’t believe so. Just some mild hypothermia and dehydration.’

  Emma clutched her chest. ‘Thank God.’

  ‘I’ll call the hospital and get the details of your grandmother’s arrival.’


  Emma, still furious with the facility, gave her a cold, curt nod. It didn’t go unnoticed, for Anastasia Thornbury seemed to shrink a little before scurrying back inside.

  Matt parked the car outside Emma’s apartment and walked her to her front door. It was almost midday and they both smiled at each other, exhausted.

  ‘Thanks for hanging out with me last night and this morning. It meant a lot,’ Emma said, searching her bag for her house key.

  ‘No problem. I’m just glad Gwendoline’s okay.’

  ‘I think she’ll be fine. She’s a fighter.’ Emma found the key and turned it in the lock. Hesitating, she said, ‘Do you want to come in? I could make you a coffee or you could crash on the lounge for a couple of hours. I don’t like the idea of you driving home tired.’

  ‘Coffee sounds great.’

  Emma smiled and opened the door. ‘Don’t mind the mess. I left in a hurry last night.’ She dropped her bag on the lounge and led the way into the kitchen. ‘So I should warn you, I’m an instant coffee girl at home; no barista or machine here, I’m afraid.’ She pulled out cups, sugar, milk and a jar of Moccona and lined them on the bench.

  ‘I don’t mind instant coffee, actually.’

  ‘Liar,’ she said, filling the kettle and switching it on.

  He laughed.

  ‘I did have a nice machine once. Unfortunately, when Drew and I separated, I left with only a suitcase of clothes. Everything in this apartment belongs to my grandmother. He gave me nothing. Drew can be shrewd.’ Emma stopped and glanced at Matt. ‘I’m sorry. Is it weird that I’m talking about him?’

  Matt shrugged. ‘It’s not weird. He just sounds like a jerk.’

  Emma chuckled. ‘He is.’

  ‘But then again, I was a jerk too.’

  ‘You weren’t. I should have been honest with you the day you told me about Natalie. I wanted to but I lost my nerve. I didn’t want to scare you off. And I guess it’s been a long time since I’ve considered myself married. Not that that’s an excuse.’ She collected a spoon from the drawer, holding it above the sugar. ‘I’m the one who should be sorry.’

  Matt moved towards her, took the spoon from her and set it down. With both hands he brought her face to his and kissed her.