R
These are the things I love about you.
Your smile, which starts at the corners and works its way towards your cheeks.
Your hands, which float in the air whenever you talk.
Your hair when it brushes my cheek.
Meet me at 12.
L
I tucked the note into my dresser drawer and practised my own smile in front of the mirror. One of Grandma’s cats, Cinnamon, watched with interest from the end of my bed.
“Oh, you wrote this note for me? How sweet!” I moved my hands about as I spoke, but just looked like I was being attacked by a plague of flies. I gave up trying to be like Rumer.
The only thing I found on my early morning walk to the beach was a slightly battered styrofoam surfboard with a big chunk out of one end. It made me think of the movie Jaws, and I shuddered a little as I threw it up onto the rocks near the track – planning to take it back with me when I left. The sand looked so soft and inviting that I lay down and let the sun’s warmth soak into my bones.
I was trying to work out how I would open the lock of the attic trunk. Maybe bolt cutters or a key. One of the keys hanging from Mrs Skelton’s neck would probably do the trick. I wondered if she ever took the keys off, or if she slept with them – even showered with them. I wouldn’t put it past her.
How to get those keys?
I wished I could talk to Luke about my problem. He’d have a good idea.
I felt myself slipping into that place that isn’t quite awake and isn’t quite asleep, when a shadow fell over me and I looked up to see Luke. He was standing watching me, his work cap pulled low over his forehead. I couldn’t see his face properly. My heart set up a clumsy gallop.
“You are down here!” he said.
“Yep,” I said. I closed my eyes against the sun’s glare and felt the sand shift next to me as Luke sat down.
“Your grandmother’s after you,” he said. “Something about peeling potatoes or something.”
“Wonder what her last slave died of,” I said.
He laughed.
It wasn’t that funny.
“Why didn’t she send Rumer down to get me? Actually, why doesn’t Rumer do the potatoes?” I threw my cousin’s name into the air twice – a challenge that Luke ignored.
What I really wanted to say was, “How can you be interested in someone like Rumer after she was so mean to you?”
What I really wanted to say was, “How can you not be interested in me?”
But sometimes it’s hard to say what you really want to.
“Dunno,” he said. Then he laughed again. “Do you remember when you swam out to Seal Rock?”
I opened my eyes to see him looking out over the waves.
“I wasn’t trying to swim to Seal Rock.” I sat up and leaned on one elbow. “I was just … It doesn’t matter.” I shaded my eyes and looked out to the rock, which was covered in seagulls.
“What doesn’t matter?” he asked.
I lay back and shut my eyes. “I can’t remember.”
My head hoped Luke would go away.
My heartbeat quickened and hoped he would stay.
I cranked one eyelid open and watched him lie down on the sand. He was so close our shoulders were touching.
“Do you remember that holiday at Ocean Side?” He shifted a little closer. I could feel the heat of his shoulder branding mine. “The one where it rained for two weeks solid?”
“Hmm, mmm,” I said. The sun was beating down nicely and making me feel drowsy. I wished I could forget about Rumer and Luke. Luke and Rumer. Together again.
“Your dad taught us how to play canasta,” he said.
“Ruleman,” I said.
“Remember how the parents kept pretending to lose so we’d keep playing?”
“Not the Colonel,” I said. “‘Winning isn’t everything, Freya, but losing is nothing’.”
“He does hate to lose,” said Luke. “Remember that Easter? We went camping and lost all our chocolate eggs? Rosie ate them–”
“Silver paper and all.”
“I was sure your dad was going to shove his hand down her throat to get them back.”
“I loved that dog.” I giggled.
“Yup. Do you still collect sea glass?” he asked.
“No. I don’t do that any more,” I said, thinking about the nice collection I had lined up on my dresser.
The dresser. The notes …
I shifted slightly away from him.
“Oh, I’m playing in the Firsts football team this year.”
“I know.” I didn’t want Luke to think I was stalking him. “I heard. I think Isabella told me.”
“How’s your Nanna?”
I noticed that he’d gotten her name right and I smiled. “Much better. Thank you.”
“When are your parents coming home?” he asked.
“Not sure. Next week sometime, I think.”
I didn’t want to think about going home. I just wanted to be where I was forever, lying on the beach next to Luke, talking like we used to before everything got messed up.
“I haven’t seen you at the jetty. It’s been ages.”
It had been exactly twenty months since I’d stopped trotting down to the jetty on a Saturday morning like a faithful lapdog, waiting for Luke Hart to appear, swinging his bucket and giving me a wave. Nearly two years since he’d first set eyes on Rumer at Ocean Side and fallen under her spell. Basically, a whole lifetime since she’d dumped him like a piece of rubbish. She hadn’t even bothered to find a bin. And yet, he seemed to have forgotten all that.
But I hadn’t.
The thought slid from my mind as I said, “I’ve been busy.”
I felt him shift beside me a little and heard him sigh. I tried not to think about what that sigh might mean. I matched my breathing to the rhythm of the waves breaking on the shore. The sun was making the inside of my eyelids a pulsing red. I felt my body sink further into the sand as my muscles relaxed and my fingers unfurled from their tight fists.
“Have you ever taken the dinghy out?” he asked.
“The what?”
“The dinghy. The little boat over near the rocks.”
“Oh. No. That’s ancient,” I said.
“Pity,” said Luke. “I reckon there’d be fish out there.”
“Hmmmm.”
“I saw some hand reels in the stables.”
“Hmmmm.”
“How’s the play rehearsal going?”
“Yeah, good.” I’d worry about that lie later.
“I think it’s great you’re doing the play.”
I squirmed a little.
“You have something …” he said.
“Hmmmm?”
The light behind my closed eyelids darkened, and I looked up to see Luke leaning over me.
This is what I’d been waiting for since I first saw him working in the garden at Vinegar House.
Strike that.
This is what I’d been waiting for since forever.
I could feel his breath on my face. I smelled his Luke Hart smell that I knew so well. I was drowning in his eyes. If he leaned in a little closer our lips would surely meet like magnets attracted to each other.
“You have …” he grazed my cheek with his fingers and held up a small piece of dried seaweed, “… this on your cheek.”
Then I gasped as someone said, “Oh, there you are.”
It was Rumer. My cheeks burned.
Luke rose slowly from the sand and brushed it from him. “You’re up early,” he said to Rumer as if they shared a private joke, and I watched her blush.
I wanted to tell them that I knew. Knew they’d been meeting in the dead of night. But my tongue couldn’t find the words. I felt my Luke Hart slipping away, replaced by the stupid Luke Hart who wrote love notes to my stupid cousin.
“Back to it, I guess,” he said with a smile.
Rumer and I both watched as Luke sauntered up the bluff path then disappe
ared behind the tea-tree.
“Well, well,” said Rumer. She gave me a piercing look, then turned on her heel and followed him.
And I felt a small thrill of victory, though I hadn’t won anything at all.
Chapter 22
Mum was sounding happier each time she rang. I knew I should have been happy too, the way things had worked out. I mean … Nanna was better, Isabella was still on holidays, Oscar hadn’t broken anything, Holly was busy being French, Luke and Rumer were meeting up in the dead of night and everyone was happy, right? Meanwhile, I was stuck at Vinegar House while even Grandma was set to leave the house on her big trip to Port Eden. You’d think she was going on a six-month holiday the amount of fuss that she and Mrs Skelton carried on with.
On Thursday morning I woke early to the sound of banging and thumping down the hallway. I poked my head out to see Mrs Skelton lugging two suitcases down the attic staircase.
“Can I help?” I asked.
“No, no, it’s very early,” said Mrs Skelton. “You just stay in your nice warm bed. I’ll be fine.”
I was getting to understand Mrs Skelton’s language. This meant, “If you don’t want to end up with burnt toast, you’d better help me right now”.
I helped Mrs Skelton who grumbled all the way down the hallway. “Too much luggage for one person, if you ask me,” I heard her say.
We left the empty suitcases at Grandma’s bedroom door, and I went back to my room and chose my clothes for the day.
My hands were freezing and I tried to warm them on the coil heater. When I looked out the window I could see Luke was already up and about. He was pushing the rusted wheelbarrow down the driveway, a hat pulled down around his ears.
I didn’t want to think about Luke any more.
I couldn’t help but think about him.
Night and day.
The air in my bedroom was so cold that my warm breath was fogging the window. I had a sudden urge to go to the attic, but when I checked, the door was locked as usual.
Rumer turned up for breakfast as if to make sure that Grandma was really leaving. After breakfast there was a lot of ordering about from Grandma and running up and down the stairs for last minute things. Finally we were standing in the entry hall waiting for last-minute instructions.
“I need my wrap,” Grandma called out to Mrs Skelton who was snapping suitcase locks at the top of the stairs. I heard the housekeeper grumbling as she left the case in search of the wrap.
Two overnight cases and a large tapestry beauty case already stood at the front door. I was itching to look inside the beauty case, wondering if it was Mrs Skelton’s or Grandma Vinegar’s. I couldn’t imagine either woman needing so many beauty products.
Grandma seemed on edge and distracted.
“I have left a list near the entry hall telephone,” she said, pointing to the phone as if Rumer and I were six-year-olds. “You will find the phone number and address of our motel there, as well as our neighbour’s number, Mr Craddock. In case of emergency.”
The Craddocks lived twenty kilometres as the crow flew, and though they were technically our neighbours, I didn’t see that they’d be much use in the case of an emergency.
“We’ll be fine, Grandma,” said Rumer, impatiently.
Another snap of the locks from upstairs announced Mrs Skelton was back.
“Did you get the paisley wrap, Livinia? I think that’s best for keeping out the chills of Port Eden,” said Grandma as she unzipped then rezipped the case at her feet.
I wondered who Grandma was talking to then realised she meant Mrs Skelton.
Mrs Skelton unbent from her task.
“Paisley wrap?” she repeated.
“Yes, the paisley,” said Grandma. “Now don’t forget to feed the cats,” she continued, looking at me. “A little treat tonight and main meal tomorrow morning. And don’t let them go wandering around outside after dark. I’ve put their cushions in the corner of the kitchen.”
“A wrap’s a wrap, if you ask me,” I heard the housekeeper mutter as she took a lilac-coloured wrap from the case and marched off in the direction of Grandma’s room.
A car horn sounded from the driveway.
“There’s Mr Chilvers now,” said Grandma, as if he’d driven hours to get here, instead of just getting the car out of the ancient garage.
She fussed about, trying to pull up the retractable handle on the case until Rumer grabbed the case from Grandma and pulled the handle up in one swift motion.
“I don’t know what was wrong with the old suitcase design,” said Grandma, looking at Rumer’s black nail polish. “Feel free to use anything you need in the guest bathroom, girls. Sunscreen. Moisturiser. Nail polish remover …”
“All good, thanks, Gran,” said Rumer, gruffly.
“Yes, well, that really isn’t correct grammar–”
The car horn sounded again.
“Oh, Mr Chilvers … Livinia!” called out Grandma.
Mrs Skelton appeared at the top of the stairs. “I can’t find your paisley, Mrs Kramer. Where do you think you’ve put it?”
Grandma waved a hand in the air. “There’s no time to look now, Livinia. Just get the lilac one. That will have to do.”
Mrs Skelton looked like she might tell Grandma what she could do with her lilac shawl.
“Lilac,” repeated Mrs Skelton. “What a good idea.” And again she disappeared.
“So you have the phone numbers, girls,” repeated Grandma. “Mrs Skelton and I shall be back by tomorrow afternoon. Mr Chilvers has some family business to attend to in Port Eden so he won’t be back until much later this afternoon. And then of course he will be leaving before tomorrow lunchtime to pick us up. You can always ring him at the cottage if you need anything tonight. The number’s near the phone. Mrs Skelton has left dinner in the refrigerator for the four of you. You just need to heat it up.”
I wondered who “the four of you were”, then realised that she meant Mr Chilvers and Luke.
“We’ll be fine, Grandma,” said Rumer with a yawn.
“I have my regular medical check-up and my eye specialist tomorrow morning and then a meeting with my solicitor, Mr Lipshut,” continued Grandma Vinegar.
Rumer’s giggle turned into a cough when Grandma looked at her crossly.
“And, of course, Mrs Skelton will be making sure I get to all my appointments on time.” She paused, looking at us closely, eyes narrowed. “Perhaps it’s best if you don’t have a fire in the television room tonight. Remember to turn the wall heating down when you go to bed–”
“Yes, Grandma,” I said, thinking I might not only leave it on but turn it up full bore.
“Make sure Luke stops for lunch today. Mrs Skelton has made his lunch, but he’ll also need a hot drink. The wind is going to turn. I can feel it in my bones.”
“Lunch,” I said. There was no way I was taking Luke his lunch. Rumer could get it for him. There’d be no need to pretend everything was fine any more, now that Grandma was leaving.
“If the power goes out, you’ll find candles in the top drawer next to the wood stove in the kitchen. You’ll find the matches there too.”
“Matches,” I repeated, nodding.
“There are also some torches in the library. You’ll find fresh batteries there as well.”
“Batteries.” I nodded again.
“Sometimes the water heater flame goes out. If you leave the laundry door open that can happen. Wait until Mr Chilvers comes back. He knows how to start it up again. It’s very cantankerous. I don’t want you girls touching it.”
“Right.”
“If Fay Anthony rings about the fundraiser, you can tell her I’m not contributing a cent until I know how my money’s being spent. Last year’s money was spent on a coffee machine at the Port Eden Youth Centre. What are they drinking coffee for? Water’s the best thing for a growing body. Not what I’d call charity.”
“Uh-huh.” I could see Rumer picking away at the polish on her fingernails.<
br />
“Charity begins at home, after all,” Grandma said, though this didn’t seem to make sense to me. “I must get Mr Chilvers onto that wall crack before it gets much bigger. Where is that woman?” she said, looking up the stairs.
Grandma picked up the phone and listened for a dial tone as if to make sure it was still working. Rumer yawned loudly.
“Make sure you go outside sometime today and get some air,” said Grandma. “You both spend far too much time hunched over your books. You’ll end up with bad posture and back braces.”
Rumer and I both nodded. I noticed my cousin stood a little straighter and pulled her shoulders back.
“Livinia!” Grandma called out sternly, then she turned back to us. “Now don’t think I don’t know that you’ll turn on the television as soon as I leave. But if it’s on for too long it gets overheated and shuts down. Then you have to leave it off for the rest of the day. Just remember that.”
“Gotcha,” I said.
Grandma frowned. “Maybe you should come with us …”
The thump, thump, thump of a case coming down the stairs distracted Grandma from her train of thought. I rushed upstairs to help Mrs Skelton who seemed to be enjoying the noise she was making. Rumer opened the front door and asked Mr Chilvers to help with the luggage, as if she were at the Hilton instead of Vinegar House. Mr Chilvers, not in his work overalls today, hitched up his pants as if unused to such foreign clothes and opened the car boot.
Grandma’s car was an old model Mercedes that reminded me of a luxury liner. Mr Chilvers’s breath rose in clouds about his face in the crisp air as he loaded the luggage into the car boot. Mrs Skelton twisted a long tartan scarf about her neck, then settled herself primly into the back seat. Grandma frowned up at the sky.
“The weather forecaster predicted a sunny day with light winds,” she said, “but I think there’s a thunderstorm coming.”
I looked up at the sky. It was blue and decorated with only a few fluffy white clouds.
“I saw a line of ants in the kitchen this morning. A sure sign of rain,” said Grandma.
Love Notes from Vinegar House Page 11
