Sweat beads on her forehead and her face is flushed by the time they reach the front garden. I should have eaten breakfast, she thinks as a sickliness swamps her belly—a combination of hunger and nausea.
Luca discusses treatments required for the brick façade and the front door. “Unfortunately, the structural engineer has notified me of a foundation problem. See here near the door,” he says, pointing to the side of the building. “See how it slants?”
She focuses on where he is pointing, but the house is slanting more than she anticipates. Her vision blurs. And it’s so damn hot. She nods, swallows down the growing nausea.
“We’re going to have to dig a trench around this side of the building and reset the footings.”
Pia shakes her head. “Nan will kill you if you disrupt her precious rose garden.” Her mouth is watering as her stomach churns. She swallows again.
“We can keep the roses. I’ll organise my landscaper to carefully remove them and replant them once we’re done.”
“She won’t like that. These roses are her babies…” Before she can finish her sentence, a burning force surges up her throat. She only manages a few steps away from Luca before she purges all over the ground at the base of Nan’s beautiful roses.
While she vomits and vomits until there is nothing left, Luca rubs her back. Mortifying, yet all she can think about is that she hopes the stomach acid doesn’t kill the roses.
When the convulsions subside enough, she unfolds herself and stands upright. “I’m so sorry.” She wipes her watering eyes with her palms.
Luca touches her shoulder, leans in. “Are you okay?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think I am. Would you mind grabbing me some water?”
“Sure. Maybe you should take a seat.”
She swallows the foul taste in her mouth. “I should be…” She spins away from him and dry-heaves over the garden again.
“I’ll be back in a second.” His fast footsteps crunch over gravel, followed by the door closing between her loud retching.
Embarrassing beyond belief.
By the time Luca is back and hands her a glass of water, she has managed to haul herself upright again. Aunt June has joined him, a knowing smirk on her face.
“I really need the watering can.” She tips the glass so the water sprays over her patch of vomit, trying to reduce the acidic intensity and save the roses.
“I thought the water was for you,” Luca says, brow furrowing.
She shakes her head. “The roses. Nan will kill me if they die.”
“I’m sure she’ll understand,” Lucas says.
“She really won’t. But now that you’ve brought it up, I would love a glass of water to drink. Aunt June, do you have a watering can?”
Aunt June places a hand on Pia’s back and pushes gently, urging her to go inside. “I’ll deal with it. You go rest on the couch. Luca, can you please see her to the living room. The last thing we need is her fainting out here in this heat.”
And like the psychic Aunt June is, the moment she mentions the word faint, Pia’s world dims and swims in and out of focus. She swirls on her feet. But then, big strong arms are around her, lifting her up.
She manages to focus again. Luca’s gorgeous but concerned face is close to hers.
“You with me?” he asks.
She nods, though the movement is like water is swishing in her brain. Aunt June leads the way as he bodily carries Pia through the front door with barely a strain on his face as though she is the weight of a doll, which she most certainly isn’t, and takes her to the lounge.
He is warm and smells earthy, and she is so close to those soft, full lips of his that she could easily lean over and kiss him. I really want to kiss him.
She quickly turns her face. She can’t kiss him after vomiting.
With slow, caring movements, he lays her on the couch on her back and gathers cushions to place under her head. He stares at her for a long moment, assessing.
Aunt June is there with another glass of water. “This one is for you. Not the bloody roses.”
Luca helps Pia sit up with a hand supporting her back. His touch is warm and firm yet caring. She takes the glass and sips at the water but braces herself for the repercussions once the liquid hits her stomach.
“Have you eaten today?” Aunt June asks.
Pia shakes her head.
Aunt June frowns. “Silly. You must have breakfast the moment you wake up.”
“I … didn’t know. I never usually have breakfast.”
“Well, now you do. Luca, please keep an eye on her while I make her some food.”
Luca sits on the couch beside her; takes the glass when she’s finished. “Hope you haven’t caught a bug.”
“I’m sure it’s nothing. I think the sun got to me, that’s all. It’s winter in San Francisco at the moment. I still need to acclimatise.”
He narrows his eyes, appraising the validity of her lie. “That could make sense.”
Aunt June soon returns with some toast. Pia sits all the way up. With her eyes closed for a few moments, she presses a hand to her head to stop the world from spinning.
She takes a piece of toast and has a small bite. The salty rich Vegemite soothes the roiling in her stomach and replaces the foul taste the vomit has left in her mouth. “Thank you. I needed this.”
Luca stands. “How about I come back this afternoon to go through the quote. About three? Would that be better?”
Aunt June nods. “I think this afternoon would be much better.”
“I’m so sorry,” Pia says before taking a big bite of toast.
“It’s not a drama at all.” His tone is soothing and his slight smile is warm. “I’ll see you both this afternoon.”
Luca leaves and Pia flops back against the couch. “How frickin’ embarrassing. I spewed my guts up in the garden in front of the sexiest man alive. He literally rubbed my back while I did it.” Her cheeks flush with heat.
Aunt June laughs. “I’m fairly sure it didn’t bother him one bit.”
Pia groans. “Is this going to happen every morning now?”
“For a good three months at least.”
Pia crosses her arms over her chest. “Great.”
“And if this keeps up, you might have to consider telling the others about your situation.”
That had crossed her mind. Between her uncharacteristic emotions and vomiting, she may not be able to hide this pregnancy for much longer.
Chapter 16
Mary
1965
Mary’s wedding to Robert was low-key. This was his second marriage, and he didn’t want to create too much fuss. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
But Mum bought her a beautiful white dress made of lace with a Jackie Kennedy box hat. She looked so sophisticated and, according to Robert, the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on.
All morning, Mary’s tummy was a jumble of nerves. She couldn’t stop the tears, especially when she received a big sweet-scented bunch of roses from Robert with a tender note attached. She never usually liked roses—they seemed a matronly flower.
By the time she arrived at the registry office and saw Robert’s pale face and touched his sweaty palms as they held hands, she mustered some composure. Perhaps attempting to ease his nerves helped placate her own.
Mary and Robert’s parents attended. She had not met his family before today. Their faces were creased with age more deeply than she had anticipated, and they bore the style associated with a class well above Mary’s station, but they were otherwise friendly. Mum would have been glad she bought a nice dress for Mary to wear once she met Mr and Mrs Rivers.
The ceremony was conducted by a Justice of the Peace—a short man with a big rounded stomach and pinched face—in a small room. Mary made it through the service without crying, but when Dad came to her afterwards, kissed her on the cheek and told her how proud he was, tears choked her.
With Dad’s words, reality zoomed
into focus—she was leaving her mum, dad, and sisters and moving in with a man she loved but had only known for three months.
Robert pulled her close to him and kissed the tears from her cheeks. “You’re not leaving your family for good. We can visit them or they can visit us any time. I’ll take good care of you, my sweetheart.”
Mary managed a watery smile. He was right—she wasn’t saying goodbye for good. Even though she hadn’t known Robert long, she knew his heart; he was kind and loving, and he would give her the best life he could.
After the short ceremony, the families went out for tea to a seafood restaurant down by the Derwent River. Mary drank her first ever glass of champagne, which was wonderfully delicious, and dined on Bell Bay bugs, fresh oysters, and trout.
She arrived home with Robert before midnight. Her head was muzzy from the alcohol and her heart full of emotion.
They hadn’t waited for their wedding night to consummate their relationship, so she wasn’t frightened about what was expected of her. They hadn’t even waited until they were engaged.
On their third date, he had taken Mary to a new Italian restaurant at Sandy Bay where they sat across from each other at a small table topped with a romantic oil-lit lantern, and she knew then that she would marry this man.
He stole a kiss when they arrived back at his car, and it ignited a burning desire inside her that had sat dormant for too long. It was like a lion roaring for the first time. When he asked her to go back to his place, she didn’t hesitate.
That night was the first time she had seen his house, and it was the first time she had a man make love with her. Their lovemaking wasn’t entirely like the encounters she had read about in books; it was raw and messy and painful, but she adored the closeness, the way Robert breathed, the connection between them, and she wanted more.
From that night onwards, they were inseparable, two burning cinders igniting each other’s flame over and over again.
Mary had read about relationships and lust, but she never knew she could ever be filled to the brim with blissful desire, let alone be insatiable. Robert was all she could think about and, every time she was with him, all whom she could touch. They thieved every moment they could to make love—always very careful with contraception, of course.
Until the wedding night.
Robert grasped her hand and steered her to his room. With a flurry of arms and kisses and heat, he relieved her of her dress, underwear, and his own, and they fell onto his bed together. Robert arched his body over her, his eyes gazing into her own. Such unspoken desire was communicated in that heated look. “Do you want to wait a few years before we try for a child?”
She looked up at his handsome face, those brilliant blue eyes, and shook her head. She pulled him to her, inching him inside her. “I can’t wait to be a mother. Let’s start right away, that way we can have a houseful of children.”
He smiled and kissed her like he was starved.
Chapter 17
June
June snatches Pia’s hand as soon as she reaches the bottom step of the staircase and leads her silently into the living room. They take position beside one another next to the unlit fireplace.
“What’s going on?” Pia asks with a giggle.
June looks towards the empty foyer and dining room—what she can see from their vantage—then turns back to Pia. “How are you feeling?” She had to rush off to her yoga class after Pia nearly fainted that morning and hasn’t had a chance to see how she recovered.
“I’m okay. Once I had something to eat and a cup of tea, by about eleven am, I was as good as gold.”
June grins. “That’s great. So remember from here on out, the moment you wake up, even before you have a drink, you need to eat something. Something dry like toast. Not breakfast cereal or anything like that, it will make you vomit.”
Pia laughs. “Well, aren’t you the pregnancy expert.”
“I’ve had a lot of pregnant friends in my lifetime.”
“What are you two whispering about?” says Lily-Rose in a sing-song voice as she appears in the entrance.
June pulls her shoulders back straighter, flicks the hair from her face and waits for Lily-Rose to be in earshot. When she is huddled with them in a circle of three, June says, “Nothing really.”
“Is it about Mum?” Lily-Rose asks, lowering her voice to a whisper.
June arches a brow. “How so?”
Lily-Rose shrugs. “You know, how she’s … different.”
“Different how?”
Pia steps closer.
“I don’t know. I can’t put my finger on it,” Lily-Rose says. “More … emotional, perhaps?”
Pia nods. “I’ve thought the same.”
“I’ve not noticed anything different,” June says, shaking her head.
Lily-Rose sighs. “Maybe it’s my imagination. But what about Aunt Grace? She is definitely not herself.”
June agrees. Maybe this evening after dinner, she can talk Grace into a meditation that will help her look towards the future again. “She’s definitely stuck.”
Lily-Rose waves her hand. “Who can blame her, really? As long as she still cooks like a genius.”
Pia covers her mouth to stifle her giggle. “Mum, that’s horrible.”
Lily-Rose shrugs. “But true.’
The scent of Grace’s cooking floats in from the kitchen, intensifying as June’s focus is drawn to it—roast pork and vegetables.
“When is Luca dropping in?” Lily-Rose asks. As the question is out of her mouth, a knock sounds at the front door.
June’s watch reads ten minutes to three. “He’s very punctual.”
Pia attempts a bored voice but is unconvincing. “I haven’t noticed.”
Lily-Rose and June both laugh. “Sure you haven’t.”
June rushes towards the entrance hall. When she opens the door, she takes a long appraising look at this gorgeous young man—all strong broad lines, thick long limbs, and a chest like a barrel. No wonder Pia is smitten.
“Good afternoon, Luca. Lovely to see you again.”
Luca grins and steps inside after she gestures with her hand. She tries to tune into his frequency, which might indicate if the universe has decided if there is a potential for romance with Pia. But there is nothing clear that she can pick up on.
Perhaps she can talk him into a tarot reading—maybe his cards hold the answers.
Or I can be bloody patient and let this play out how it will or won’t regardless if I know beforehand or not.
“Good to see you too,” Luca says.
“Head on through to the living room. Pia and Lily-Rose are waiting. I’ll go find the others.”
As Luca strides off, June inhales deeply and closes her eyes. Tingles work across her arms and down the back of her legs. It’s as though the house is speaking to her, whispering with sensation, explaining that a man like Luca is what is needed here.
She snaps her eyes open. That has never happened before and she’s not entirely sure what it means. She shakes off the experience and heads to the end of the staircase. “Mary! Grace! The meeting is about to get started!”
When they are all seated on various chairs and sofas, Luca hands them folders filled with documents set in plastic sleeves—their own personalised building pack.
June takes a moment to watch Luca—his upturned lips, his assured manner. He’s courteous, kind and handsome beyond comprehension.
Sure, June has heard town gossip about him like she has with every resident of Campbell Town. She has seen him out and about during her day to day errands—he’s difficult to miss. She has said hello as they passed and he has always been pleasant and genuine.
But never before now has she sensed he has some relevance to her life in a greater capacity than a contractor employed to renovate her manor. She narrows her gaze as she takes in his golden aura, so strong and unbreakable. She listens with all her perceptions. He feels like a protective cuddle.
But why?
June leafs through the pages of blueprint drawings to the post-renovation graphics of how the manor, their apartments, and the grounds will look. She gasps at the final picture—a stunning representation of the manor once it is completely restored. This house had once possessed such majesty. She had forgotten.
She remembers coming here when she was fifteen for the first time. Mary had been out of home for a good three years by then, and Robert’s parents had died, three months between them, only one year earlier and had bequeathed Viewtree House to him.
June’s upbringing was middle-class, perhaps even on the lower side. To be inside a home with chandeliers, leadlight windows, and ornamental features, let alone the many rooms and sprawling space, was like a fairy tale.
She recalls regally walking through the corridors and open living areas as though her head was adorned with a diamond encrusted tiara.
On the first day here, Robert had to attend to a house-call in the evening leaving June and Mary alone. Mary had taken June’s hands and they both squealed and jumped around in a circle from the excitement.
Looking at the place as it stands now, June can’t imagine anyone getting excited about it. All June can see is a money pit. And that’s fine. She has worked hard all her adult life until retirement. She has a good amount of cash put aside in her superannuation she can use to fund her share of the renovations. It’s time to give back to this old place. With these drawings, she can now see the direction they are all heading.
Luca confidently runs through the changes, being more than patient with the million questions asked.
“I mentioned to Pia earlier than there is an issue with the footings on the front left wing of the house. This will be quite expensive as I need to dig a trench around the permitter in order to fix the issue. It’s vital that the problem is dealt with, though, otherwise the floor will continue to sink and will eventually compromise the integrity of the rest of the structure. But Pia did mention that the front garden might be a point of contention—”
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