‘I hoped you’d follow me out here,’ she said to the figure walking towards her.
‘Aren’t I a lucky fellow, then?’ Richard replied, the grating timbre of his voice turning her blood cold.
He stood before Gigi, his eyes glassy, his head tilted.
‘I knew you wanted me as much as I want you.’ He stumbled forwards.
‘I wasn’t . . . it wasn’t you . . . Richard, go back inside.’ She drew her shoulders up, stood tall.
With one hand he reached out and tugged at the ribbon in her hair. With the other he grabbed her waist. ‘You look so pretty tonight.’
‘Thank you.’ She squirmed but he held her tight. ‘Why don’t you go back to the pub and tell your wife how pretty she is?’
He turned around, his back to her. She took a step back.
‘She is pretty. And perfect. Boringly perfect. You? You’ve got spunk.’ He spun around and grabbed her arm. ‘She hasn’t let me anywhere near her in months.’ His hand moved up her arm and she tried to wriggle free, but his grip was tight.
‘Richard, you’re hurting me. Please stop.’
‘I’m not going to hurt you, Gigi. I’d never hurt you.’ His words were hot on her neck. ‘I’m just lonely. You don’t want me to be lonely, do you?’ He kissed her cheek.
She shoved him backwards. ‘Richard, go back inside and remember your manners.’
He lurched towards her. ‘Manners?’ He grabbed her behind the head. ‘Who are you to talk about manners? Giving yourself to a wog?’
Gigi let out a little yelp.
‘Todd told me all about your dalliance with that disgusting foreigner. You’ll give it up for him, but not me? I don’t think so, Gigi.’
He pushed her to the sand. She tried to scramble away, but he grabbed her leg.
‘Richard, you’re drunk. Stop. Please.’
He slapped her across the face.
‘I’m not that drunk. A used whore like you shouldn’t be so fussy.’ He forced her legs open.
‘Stop!’ she screamed, her shrill cry echoing through the night, and he covered her mouth with one hand.
Beneath him Gigi writhed and bucked but he was too heavy. She kicked her legs to no avail. Panic and fear coursed through her.
‘Don’t fight, Gigi.’ Hate dripped from his voice as he said her name. ‘It will hurt less if you don’t fight.’
Like hell she wouldn’t fight.
She balled her fists and started punching him in the back. Still covering her mouth, he used his other hand to pin her arms above her head.
She felt a rock beneath her hand. Thrusting her hips up, she knocked him off balance. He adjusted his grip, just enough for her to get one hand free. The hand closest to the rock.
As she lifted it up, she heard a shout coming from down the beach. Richard groaned as he pushed her legs further apart, his knee digging into her groin. Pain shot through her.
With all the force she could muster, she thrust the rock down.
Crack.
Richard’s hand fell from her face.
She screamed. As loud as she could. Again and again.
He went limp on top of her.
Warm liquid pooled beside her.
Someone fell down next to her. ‘Virginia. What have you done?’
Costas rolled Richard’s body off her.
‘Are you all right?’
She stared at him.
She looked at Richard’s lifeless body next to her.
Her hands began to tremble. She dropped the rock and shrieked.
‘Shh,’ Costas whispered. ‘They’ll hear you.’
Gigi looked at Richard, darkness oozing out of him. ‘No!’ she screeched.
A commotion came over the sand dune. Todd’s voice called out.
Costas picked up the rock and shoved Gigi aside.
‘No!’ she called out, her voice barely a whisper.
Todd rounded the dune first.
‘No!’ she yelled, loudly, hoarsely.
‘What have you done, you no-good wog?’ Todd threw Costas aside. ‘You’ve killed him.’
Mr Beaumont ran to them. Ian followed. He fell to Gigi’s side and wrapped his arms around her. Sergeant Broadbent strode forwards.
Lily scrambled towards them, helped by Mrs Duncan. A guttural screech escaped her throat as she collapsed into her maid’s arms.
‘I saw him.’ Todd turned to his father. ‘He hit Prescott with that rock. He killed him.’
No. Gigi protested, but the word was silent.
Todd punched Costas in the face and he fell backwards, but didn’t fight back.
The scene played out before Gigi as if she were at the cinema. People rushing here and there, tending to Richard, restraining Costas, asking her questions she couldn’t quite understand. She was there, but not part of it, simply watching it.
Sergeant Broadbent hauled Costas away, Todd spitting at him. Others joined in too, hurling their saliva at Costas, who simply bowed his head. Mrs Duncan cradled Lily in her arms. ‘Don’t cry, baby girl,’ she whispered over and over. Mrs Beaumont helped them to their feet and pulled Lily away from the scene. Ian wiped Gigi’s hands with his handkerchief. Why was he doing that? Why were her hands red? She looked up into his eyes.
‘Shh,’ he whispered and picked her up and carried her up the sand.
From behind another sand dune, a small figure ran through the gathered crowd and threw herself at Costas. He bent his head and whispered something in her ear. Broadbent jostled them apart and Yvonne fell to the sand, staring at Gigi.
Ian kept walking up the beach, carrying Gigi away.
Then everything went black.
Laura went for a run, vacuumed the house, put some washing on, cleaned the bathroom. She changed the sheets on the bed, mopped the kitchen floor. Never in her life had she done so much housework. Never in her life had she been such a confused mess of guilt and sadness and despair.
She’d sent Heath a message. He hadn’t replied.
All day she’d waited to hear from him, to hear from Virginia. All day there was silence. The clock ticked over four and the sky turned dark with clouds.
A knock on the door, and she rushed to open it.
Charlotte stood there with a stern look on her face and Laura let her in.
Refusing to sit, Charlotte stood in the middle of the living room, hands on hips.
‘Do you remember that first day when you helped Gran out in the shack?’ She turned and looked at Laura.
‘Yes.’
‘Do you remember what you promised me?’
‘That I wasn’t here to harm your family.’
‘Care to explain, then?’
Where did she begin? Rule number eight – at the beginning. So she did. She told Charlotte about the photo that had led her here, the research she’d been doing. Virginia’s visit that morning. As the whole story spilled out, relief washed over her. Charlotte listened to every word. Now everyone who mattered knew the truth. Now she could stop the lies.
‘I never meant to hurt anyone.’ Laura raised her hand to her chest. Charlotte had to believe her. ‘Least of all Heath. I just wanted to know about Lillian’s past.’
‘I don’t know anything about your grandmother.’ Charlotte looked her in the eye. ‘And I have no idea if Gran does. I do know –’ she furrowed her brow – ‘that sometimes people have a good reason to keep secrets.’ She looked like she was about to say something else, but clearly changed her mind.
‘I’m sorry, Charlotte. I really am.’
Charlotte looked tired. ‘I only have one question for you, Laura. Are your feelings for Heath genuine?’
Laura reached out and grabbed Charlotte’s hands. ‘Yes.’
Lightning streaked across the sky. Charlotte nodded and headed home without another word.
Slumped over the dining table, Laura pushed her dinner around her plate, not eating any of it. Her phone rang.
Finally. Maybe Charlotte had spoken to Heath for her.
&nbs
p; But it wasn’t Heath.
‘Hi, Maher.’
In all of the day’s drama, Laura had forgotten to call him back.
‘Laura, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.’
‘Sorry. It’s been a bit of a day here.’
‘I was just wondering if you’re nearly done. A story has come up and you’re the only one I want to put on it.’
Laura paused. ‘Well, as it turns out, things might just be wrapping up here.’
‘Great. Get home as soon as you can.’ Maher hung up.
Was there any point hanging around now? Laura had upset everyone, and it was unlikely Virginia would open up to her. She’d pushed Heath away.
No. There wasn’t much point at all. She pulled on her running gear.
As Laura opened the front door, a blast of icy wind hit her and she stepped out into the night. She opened the gate to the holiday house and ran towards the beach, thoughts, questions, doubts colliding in her mind.
Thunder boomed. Lightning flashed.
Heavy raindrops began to fall as Laura reached the south end of the beach. She ducked under the jetty and sucked in great gulps of air. The rain was getting heavier, the wind stronger.
With her back against one of the jetty pylons, she sank onto the damp sand. The cold seeped into Laura’s skin and she felt it in her bones. But she didn’t get up. She drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them tightly. What harm could a little rain do to her now?
A jagged flash of lightning streaked across the sky. She counted. One, two. A habit left over from her childhood. Boom. Less than a kilometre away.
She eyed the shack. Should she make a run for it?
Thunder bellowed, shaking the air.
‘What are you doing out in this?’ Heath darted in next to her. She looked at him, unable to answer. Where had he come from? Why was he here?
Hope filled her, before it gave way to shame. She’d been so deceptive. Could he ever forgive her?
Surging waves crashed into the wooden pylons of the jetty.
‘This is going to be a big one, and she’s rolling in fast. Come on. We need to take shelter.’ He reached out his hand and she took it. Together they ran through the storm to the shack.
‘This will have to do.’ He opened the side door to the shack and pulled Laura in with a jolt, yanking her arm so hard it hurt.
‘What are you doing?’ Laura stood with her hands on her hips.
‘I’m sorry.’ He briefly touched her shoulder before pulling back. ‘It isn’t safe out there.’ Heath looked around for a blanket and threw it over Laura’s shoulders. She realised then that she was shivering.
Lightning illuminated the sky, followed instantly by a loud crash of thunder. And another. And another. A barrage of light and sound, unrelenting, unending.
The shack vibrated with each boom.
Through the tiny square window in the side door, Laura watched the show.
Flash! Crash!
A tree just metres away lit up and burst into flame.
She jumped back and looked at Heath, terror coursing through her.
‘It’s okay. The rain will take care of the fire. But we might want to brace things. She’s about to get worse.’
Worse?
‘Grab some cushions,’ he barked.
Laura stared at him. All day, all she’d wanted to do was talk to him, explain things. And now here he was, but the urgency in his voice, the sharpness of his movements, kept her silent.
Another crack of lightning and she jumped.
Heath picked up a cushion off the sofa and waved it at her. From beneath the sink, he grabbed some gaffer tape. He held the cushion up to one of the porthole windows. ‘Like this,’ he shouted, the wind howling so loudly outside Laura could barely hear him. He taped the cushion across the glass.
This was a Heath she’d never seen before. Beneath his gruff exterior she sensed something else. Fear? No. Not Heath. Then she remembered his story about how he’d got his scar. In a monster storm. Her hands began to shake.
‘Now!’ he yelled.
Laura grabbed another cushion and did as she was told. Once all the porthole windows were covered she stood in the middle of the shack, salty tears drying on her skin.
‘They reckon there’re going to be gale-force winds.’
She stared at him. ‘Virginia?’ She pointed to the loft above the shack.
‘She’s at Charlotte’s. I’ve just come from there. But I’ll go up and batten down her windows. Wait here.’
The wind outside screeched and wailed, relentless in its attack. Frightened, Laura started to head up the stairs.
‘Stay in here.’ Heath came bowling back down the stairs. ‘We’ll be safer.’ He handed her a towel. ‘You must be freezing. Dry yourself and get out of those wet clothes. You’re soaked through.’ He left a T-shirt and another blanket on the counter and turned his back.
Once she was dry and changed, Laura wrapped the fresh blanket around herself.
A loud crash came from nearby as something fell behind the shack. Laura gasped. The walls of the shack began to shake in the wind. The knick-knacks on the shelves rattled and toppled over. One of the cushions fell from a window.
Laura pulled the blanket tighter around herself, for what little good it did to quell her rising fear.
Another loud crack.
‘Come here,’ Heath said. In the middle of the room he’d placed the sofa upside down against the sturdy counter, creating what would, under other circumstances, have been a cute fort for a kid. He beckoned her to join him under the scant protection.
Sitting curled up tight on the floor, every crack of thunder made Laura jump. Every surge of air trying to force its way into the shack made her gasp.
Heath put his arm around her shoulders. ‘We’ll be okay. It’ll pass over soon. We just have to wait it out. That’s all you can do in a storm like this. They don’t usually last long.’
Within Heath’s embrace Laura remained perfectly still, afraid to move, to speak, to breathe too deeply. This stolen moment of closeness might be the last she’d ever have with him. If she moved, he might pull away. Fear and want fought within her.
She had no idea how much time passed before the wind eventually began to subside. It felt like hours one moment, the blink of an eye the next.
The wind no longer roared, but whistled through the cracks in the walls. The lightning had slowed. So had the thunder. But not the rain. The rain was heavier than before.
‘I’m just going to check upstairs.’ Heath climbed out from beneath their fort.
‘No. Please. Don’t leave me.’ Laura followed him.
He held her hand and squeezed it gently. ‘I’ll be right back. We don’t want that rain leaking in if there’s any damage to the roof.’
Laura tiptoed to the cushion-less window. She couldn’t see much in the dark. A distant flash of lightning lit up the beach for a moment. Tree branches and leaves and seaweed littered the sand. And she counted. One, two . . . six, rumble. The storm was moving away.
‘No damage upstairs.’ Heath returned. ‘Looks like there are a few trees down outside, though. One only just missed the shack. The rain hasn’t eased up yet. We might be stuck here for a little while.’
Laura looked back out the window into the blackness. She couldn’t bear to look at Heath, knowing she’d hurt him, lost him.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered.
She could feel him move behind her. So close she could hear his breath, feel the heat radiating from his body.
His arm reached around her waist, his lips moved beside her ear. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to explain.’
She turned around in his arms. ‘I’m the one who should be sorry.’
He leaned down, his face stopping an inch from hers.
‘I have no idea what this is, Laura. Or what else is going on. But I know life is short, and I know I want you.’
She lifted her head, ever so slightly, and Heath didn’t hesita
te, kissing her forehead, her nose, her cheek. Her lips.
The blanket fell from her shoulders and Heath lifted her, carrying her back to their fort.
Virginia sat with Aiden in his room, listening to him read from his schoolbook. Trying to block out the storm.
She’d put her two cents’ worth in earlier with Heath, and the fact she and Charlotte were on the same page had been enough of a shock to convince him to give Laura a chance to explain herself. He’d gone off to see her just as the storm rolled in. She hoped they were both safe.
Aiden’s voice sang as he read out loud. Charlotte came in and they huddled together as the lightning and thunder burst around them. Virginia closed her eyes. She could feel her strength waning with every crack in the sky. So many burdens carried for so long. All she wanted to do now was rest and stop the old memories from haunting her.
January 1964
Gigi woke in Ocean Heights Hospital. She ached all over, particularly her legs. Beside the hospital bed her parents sat quietly. When they noticed she was awake, they rushed to her side.
‘Did he hurt you?’ Mum asked. ‘Did Costas hurt you?’
‘What? No.’ Her head was foggy.
‘It’s all right now, love. He’s in custody.’ Dad patted her on the shoulder.
She tried to sit up. ‘No. You don’t understand.’ Tears streamed down her face. ‘Richard . . .’
‘He’s gone. So tragic. He was just trying to save you from that monster.’ Mum wiped away a tear.
‘No!’ Gigi screamed.
‘I’ll go get the doctor.’
‘No. You don’t understand.’ She tried to throw her legs over the bed, but they wouldn’t move. And Dad held her down. ‘Stop. Let me go.’
A doctor hurried into the room, a needle poised in his hand. ‘Shock can be a terrible thing.’ His voice was calm, stern. ‘This will help.’
He injected something into her arm and she drifted off into a haze.
When she woke again it was dark. She pulled herself up and let her eyes adjust to the lack of light. In the corner sat Yvonne, her legs pulled up to her chest.
She put her finger to her lips and beckoned Gigi to follow.
Together they tiptoed through the hospital corridors. Down the hall and around two bends, a police officer sat outside a room, sleeping with his head on his chest.
The Banksia Bay Beach Shack Page 27
