The Stationmaster's Cottage

by Phillipa Nefri Clark

  Ashley was flamboyant and fun, while Ray was quieter but had a killer sense of humour. Teaching law at Melbourne University, his passion was guitar and languages. He spoke seven fluently, and he and Ashley always chose their holiday destinations based on whatever tongue was the current favourite.

  Christie tapped on the door, and when Ray opened it, his face lit up in a broad smile.

  "Hello, beautiful!" He threw his arms around her.

  “Derek thinks I’m too thin.”

  Ray stepped back to inspect Christie. “Never can be too thin or too rich, or so they say. You appear fine to me. For a woman.” he added. “Come in.”

  “Can’t, sorry. Just wanted to invite you and Ashley to dinner tomorrow night. I know this is short notice, sorry.”

  “You speak as though we have a life.” Ray feigned mournfulness. “How shall we dress and what shall we bring?”

  “The usual and nothing.”

  “So wear nothing and bring the usual?”

  “Funny man. I missed you!”

  "Well, you can tell me all about your romantic break tomorrow."

  "Oh, and there'll be another couple there. Ingrid and Leon, friends of Derek. And about seven okay?"

  "Seven it is. Sure you won't stay for a while? I'm finished for the year, so all I have is time."

  Christie kissed Ray on the cheek. “Gotta go. See you tomorrow.”

  “Very well. I shall return to my solitary musings.”

  Christie laughed at Ray as he closed the door with a sigh. Walking back to her apartment, she remembered his comment about the romantic break. Derek must have told them about Lizard Island. Perhaps he had told all of their friends. Now, he would be embarrassed he had gone alone. Why everything had to be so difficult was beyond Christie.

  DEREK WAS IN THE BEDROOM unpacking his bag when Christie returned. Her suitcase that had gone to Queensland with Derek was open on the end of the bed, so Christie began putting her things away. As she hung a long dress in a shade of green that matched her eyes, Derek glanced over.

  “Wear that tomorrow night. It’s what I wanted you to wear for dinner with Ingrid and Leon. Except you never arrived.”

  Christie dropped onto the edge of the bed. “I was on my way to the airport when you rang. All I wanted was to be with you, Derek. Don’t you know that?”

  “Well, you changed your mind and stayed, that’s all I know. Which gave me no confidence you wanted to come to Lizard Island.” His attention stayed on his suitcase.

  "Of course I wanted to be there, but you said some things that hurt me. It wasn't a road trip, it was my grandmother's funeral, and I needed to say goodbye. You told me I was selfish!" To Christie's dismay, she began to cry. Quiet tears of frustration, sadness, and probably some anger, if she was honest.

  Derek stared at her in astonishment. Christie never cried. Never raised her voice or argued. She followed most of his suggestions, supported his ideas and went about her life. He disappeared into the bathroom and returned with a box of tissues, which he held out to her.

  “Stop crying. There’s no need, Christie, here have a tissue.”

  “Thanks.” She took one and wiped the tears. “You called me Christie. Thanks.”

  The tears trickled to a stop, and she took a few deep, calming breaths. Derek left the tissues on the bedside table and kept emptying his bag, but he glanced at her a few times in concern.

  After a moment or two, Christie resumed unpacking. Derek took his now empty suitcase into the spare bedroom. Christie finished by the time he returned, so he took hers and put it away. When he came back in, Christie was standing in front of the mirrored robe.

  "Hey, I don't remember saying those things, but if I did, well, it would have been because I was so disappointed not to have you there. Let's put this last week behind us and move on." He put his arms around Christie and pulled her close against his chest. She leaned her head on his shoulder, wanting his strength to protect her from the world.

  "I'm going to order in something for dinner, that way you can plan out tomorrow night. Okay?" He loosened his hold, and Christie stepped back a little and nodded. "I'll go open a bottle of red, and you get started on that." He kissed her on the cheek as if nothing had ever been wrong.

  Once alone, Christie turned back to the mirror. Her eyes were so sad and unsure. Now, Derek wanted to forget everything. As though it didn’t happen. During a rare time of need, he withheld his support, his love and his understanding and forced her to take care of herself. The way she used to, growing up.

  She needed more from Derek. She wanted him to be her inspiration and safe place and lover and protector. It might be an old-fashioned notion, but yes, she wanted him to watch out for her, be aware of her needs and not let harm come her way. She needed him to be her hero.

  Reading the love letters from Thomas to Martha had shown her that for some people, love meant more than sharing a home and a few interests. It was about an unrelenting passion and deep, abiding love for another that defied time and circumstance. True love was putting the other person's needs above your own and being willing to see their perspective. Wanting to be with them no matter what the risks.

  Christie sighed, unable to shake the sadness. She was being unfair to Derek with these unsettling thoughts. He was who he was. Unexpectedly, Christie remembered Martin, angry at her risky behaviour up on the ladder, his disbelief Derek had left her to go to the funeral alone, and how he followed her home to make sure she was safe. She had known he was trailing behind the whole time.

  She pushed the memories away, upset with herself. Whatever was going on between herself and Derek was unrelated to Martin. She might not ever even see him again, so it was time to be real and concentrate on the problems at home.

  Sixteen

  ELIZABETH WHITE SPENT a restless night worrying about her brief encounter with Martha's great-niece. In a couple more days, her old friend would return to her home in Ireland. There was the check-up at the hospital first, but Martha was stronger now, and if there was one thing Elizabeth knew, it was that she had resilience.

  The deep sorrow in her eyes remained, and Elizabeth believed there was more to it than the loss of Dorothy. She longed to comfort Martha but had no idea where to begin. Perhaps having a new relative in her life would provide a sense of family. She never married, although there had been men in her life from time to time.

  There was little more Elizabeth knew, for Martha kept her private life private and rarely spoke of herself, other than her love of travel and long career as a primary school principal. Having been to Ireland herself, Elizabeth understood Martha's connection with the land, and in some ways, the small town she lived in was a little bit like River's End.

  Before Martha woke, Elizabeth walked into town to get fresh milk and the paper. It was on her return trip that she saw Daphne drive in her direction and raised a hand to wave. Daphne pulled over with a cheery “Morning! Lovely day for it!”

  “You’re out early, Daphne.”

  "Yes yes, busy day today. John's got people coming from the city again to inspect that land up near the old cottage, and I need to have morning tea all arranged."

  “I see.” Elizabeth could not trust herself to say more. The presence of developers around town was unwelcome.

  “Good thing young Christie’s gone home. Don’t think she appreciated them offering to buy the old cottage the other day.”

  “Oh, that’s the young lady with the sports car?”

  “Did you meet her? Such a sweetie and I think she’ll be back soon enough.”

  “Very soon, do you expect?”

  “Hard to say. Think she rather likes it here so maybe she’ll visit more often. Now, sorry to rush off but John will be expecting his cup of coffee.”

  “Nice to see you, Daphne.” Elizabeth nodded and watched Daphne drive off.

  Christie had left town and Martha would follow in a few days. No point telling her anything about her great-niece. Not yet. Elizabeth let out a deep sigh of
relief.

  AFTER AN ALL-DAY BLUR of shopping and cooking, flower arranging and table decorating, Christie was back in front of the mirror. She critically inspected her reflection. Hair swept up and elegant in a chignon. Makeup flawless. The dress followed her shape, and her shoes were almost flat leather sandals

  “Baby, I need some help here!” Derek called from the kitchen.

  “Just stir it. I’ll only be a minute!”

  Derek had agreed to help while Christie got ready, so she gave him the task of occasionally stirring the pasta sauce. Last seen, he had a glass of wine in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other, standing as far from the sauce as he could, in case any splattered on him.

  After dabbing on some perfume, Christie hurried to the kitchen, the dress swishing against her bare legs. The day had been hot and humid, still sticky in spite of a light breeze coming through the open French doors.

  Derek poked at the large skillet. His wine glass was empty, and the sauce was bubbling a bit too high. "I think it's going to burn. Just as well you got here in time."

  Christie lowered the heat and the sauce settled to a gentle simmer. She stirred it once and turned it off.

  “No, it’s fine honey. Just needed to keep it a bit lower.”

  “Well, you’re the cook, not me. I need to refill my glass. I’ll get you a drink.”

  As he passed Christie, he kissed her cheek. “Very pretty.”

  “Thank you. I’d like a glass of white?”

  Christie took a teaspoon and tasted the sauce. It was rich and delicious, made from her own recipe with over-ripe tomatoes, fresh basil, garlic, and a tiny touch of chilli. She had taken a homemade loaf of bread from the oven before changing and still warm, it mingled with the herbs to fill the kitchen with beautiful aromas.

  Derek wandered back with two glasses of red wine and put one on the side of the stove before heading back to the dining table.

  “Um, white?” Christie called after him.

  “Red’s better for you.”

  Christie rolled her eyes at his back and immediately put a hand over her mouth. She did do that! It was as though she was back in Martin’s house and could almost hear him telling her how disrespectful she was being. He had left her in no doubt he would act if disrespected in a relationship and Christie’s mind formed a picture of her being sent to stand in the naughty corner.

  She giggled, but that lightheaded sensation returned, and she drank a mouthful of wine. The doorbell rang, and she silently scolded herself for allowing ridiculous thoughts in.

  Derek opened the front door with a flourish. “Gentlemen! Welcome to an Italian night in Docklands.”

  He shook hands with Ashley and Ray as Christie came out of the kitchen.

  "Bella!" Ashley embraced Christie in a bear hug that left her breathless. He kissed her on both cheeks, and she laughed. Ashley was younger than Ray, well-groomed with short-cropped platinum blonde hair, a perpetual tan and a contagious laugh.

  Ray inserted himself between Ashley and Christie and did over the top air kisses on either side of her face. “No Bella about it! It’s more ragazza più bella del mondo! Green suits you, darling.”

  "Show off," Ashley commented as Ray disappeared into the kitchen.

  "Now, Derek will get you a drink, and I'm going to get Ray out of my sauce!"

  In the kitchen, Ray tasted the sauce with a tablespoon he had taken from the drawer, his eyes closed as he savoured the big mouthful. Christie took the spoon away from him, and he opened his eyes in mock outrage.

  "Really? We should go into business. I know someone who bottles stuff, and you don't want to be running all over the world for the rest of your life!" He thought about it for a moment. "Scrap that, you get the best of both worlds already."

  “Go get a drink.” Christie grinned.

  “Well I will, but first, tell me about Lizard Island. It’s always been on my radar. What’s wrong?”

  Frowning, Christie opened the fridge. "Um, I didn't go. There was a last minute change of plans, and I had to attend my Gran's funeral."

  “Oh, darling, that’s awful. About your Nanna.”

  “Thanks. We weren’t close, but going there was the right thing to do.”

  “Well of course it was. But, you both went away afterwards?”

  Christie closed the fridge, keeping an eye out for Derek.

  “Derek went alone. He didn’t know Gran, and I found out literally as we were leaving. No time to talk it through. I’d planned on meeting him there the next day.”

  “Oh-kay.”

  “Um, Gran left me a cottage and a painting and stuff. It was a big week.”

  Ray opened his mouth to speak then closed it again. Instead, he gave her a hug. "You worry about dinner, and I'll go entertain."

  He disappeared out of the kitchen, and Christie sighed. People would ask. She opened the fridge again and took out two platters of antipasto. These could go out as soon as the other guests arrived and later, it would only take a few minutes to cook her pasta and reheat the sauce for mains.

  The doorbell rang, and Christie took a sip of wine, nervous about meeting these people, unsure of what they might know of the problems she and Derek had experienced over the past few days. However, they were guests, so she forced a smile and went out to meet them.

  The couple coming in through the door were nothing like Christie expected. Leon was around sixty, a tall, bald, overweight man with a small grey beard. He wore a jacket just a little bit too tight and had gold rings on four fingers.

  Ingrid was tiny by comparison. About five feet tall, she wore a short gold dress showing off a curvy body and gorgeous legs accentuated by gold stilettos. Her hair was short, and the same platinum blonde Ashley sported. Christie guessed she was about thirty.

  “Ah, there she is... Chris come and meet our other guests.” Derek held his hand out for Christie’s and took it in his for a moment when she was close enough.

  "These are my friends, Ingrid and Leon. And this is Chris," he announced.

  Christie slipped her hand from his and held it out to Ingrid. “Welcome to our home, Ingrid.”

  Ingrid's handshake was like jelly. Her hand was cold, and her smile did not reach her eyes. Leon took Christie's hand and shook it firmly, before pulling her close for a kiss on the lips.

  “What would you like to drink?” Derek addressed Ingrid.

  "Do you have sweet white wine?" Her voice was Australian, soft and educated. "Leon will have a beer or red wine. Whatever you're drinking."

  Leon caught Christie’s eye and winked. She smiled back, liking him immediately and surprised at how different the couple were from each other. Oh well, each to their own.

  For a few moments, the three couples mingled, punctuated by Ashley’s laugh and a smattering of German between Ray and Leon. Christie put the platters on the table and invited the guests to sit.

  The table was inviting with white linen, crystal, and silver cutlery. Purple and white camellias floated in bowls, and two purple candles gave an intimate and soft atmosphere.

  “Christie, my love, you can decorate my table anytime.” Ray admired.

  Seated opposite Ray, her fingers playing with the stem of her wine glass, Ingrid smiled faintly. “Yes, you have talent. But you do makeup, don’t you?”

  Ray answered for Christie. “If by “do makeup” you mean be one of the film industry’s most talented specialists, then yes. You should see some of her work. Oh and not just on humans – there was an alien once I thought had to be real. So lifelike!”

  “It wasn’t an alien, silly. Just a politician.” Ashley interjected.

  "Alien. Politician. Who can tell the difference?" Ray lifted both hands up in a confused gesture, and everyone laughed.

  THE CONVERSATION MOVED from aliens to corporate law, selling luxury cars – Leon owned a European distributorship - to land development. After mains, Ingrid steered the conversation to her own work in London, and she and Derek swapped a few stories about their achievement
s. Christie used the opportunity to finish two cheeseboards.

  She placed them on the table, happy with the mix of Victorian hard and soft cheeses, locally made crackers and sticks, and beautiful quince paste from the Barossa Valley. Complementing these were grapes, sliced figs and Victorian olives. She poured six glasses of fortified wine from the Rutherglen wine region in the north of the state.

  Ashley lifted his glass and tipped it toward Christie. “To a gracious hostess and a beautiful menu.”

  The others all raised their own glasses and said cheers. As people began selecting from the cheeseboard, Ashley leaned back in his seat, his face curious.

  “So Christie, I believe you inherited a cottage! Do tell us all about it.”

  Christie glanced at Derek, who watched her closely. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything! Where, what it is like. Value ha-ha!”

  “Well, it’s a little old cottage in a tiny town called River’s End. It was built over a hundred years ago for the stationmasters to live in when the town was booming with timber production. Um, the cottage has been uninhabited for some years so is pretty rundown, but it has an orchard and a vegetable garden still growing heritage plants.”

  “And you’ve been staying there this past week, I understand?” Ingrid said.

  "I have. Gran left me a box full of mysteries. A painting, wedding rings, old love letters. She wanted me to find some hidden family secret, and those are a few of the pieces of the puzzle."

  Leon’s face lit up. “Ah, a secret! Have you worked out who did what to who? Or whom?”

  “Bits. But it will take more time and research to see what I can find.”

  “And what of this cottage? Are you keeping it?” Leon asked.

  “Of course not.” Derek dismissed the concept. “It’ll cost more in rates and repairs than it’s probably worth. Best thing is to get what you can and move on.”