Christmas at Remarkable Bay

by Victoria Purman

  There was only one way to find out.

  He grabbed his phone, wallet and keys from the bedside table in the spare room and almost forgot the flowers and chocolates. He doubled back to the kitchen and let himself feel that things were about to change for the better, for all of them. The chalkie. The drunk. The runaway. And especially the cop.

  * * *

  ‘No way.’ The look on Abbie’s face had been worth every minute of Mara’s mad cooking and decorating rush. Mara felt her heart grow inside her chest.

  ‘Yes, way,’ Mara replied, laughing, as she ushered Abbie, Karen and Fluffy inside when they’d returned from their long beach walk.

  ‘Oh my god. This is amazing.’ Karen looked up at the fairy lights strung from the curtain rod to the centre light fitting and then across the room to the kitchen door. Once it was dark, they would light up the room as if it were the Milky Way.

  ‘And there’s even a Christmas tree.’ Abbie rushed to the six-foot tree Mara had set up in the corner of the living room by the TV and the crowded bookshelf, and reached for one of the ornaments. It was a silver bell and she rang it and laughed. ‘This is beautiful.’

  ‘Merry Christmas, Abbie,’ Mara said. Abbie walked to her and hugged her.

  Mara held on to the girl and whispered in her ear, ‘No one should miss out on Christmas, no matter what’s happened.’

  Abbie let go and looked up at her. ‘You’re the best, Ms Blumberg. You really are.’

  The front door squeaked open.

  Mara, Abbie and Karen looked over. It was George.

  ‘What’s all this then?’ He looked around the room at the tinsel and the lights and the tree and the table set for four. He smiled at the sight of his partner sitting cross-legged on the floor with Fluffy in her lap. Abbie had returned to the Christmas tree to inspect the decorations. And when his eyes met hers, Mara felt her cheeks burn.

  He walked over to her with a smile on his handsome face. He was holding a bunch of flowers and a box of chocolates.

  George offered her the blooms. ‘Merry Christmas.’

  Her cheeks felt warm and she suddenly felt nervous that if she opened her mouth to speak gibberish might come out instead. ‘Thank you,’ she managed.

  He was close, a step away, and he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, slow and soft. Every nerve inside her tingled. ‘All this effort you’ve gone to. It looks amazing. And you look beautiful.’

  She’d chosen to wear one of the two sundresses she’d brought with her. This one was a crinkle cotton, a mix of blues and greens with a pop of yellow, in an off the shoulder style that hit her knees. It was flowing and cool and she felt just the slightest bit sexy with her shoulders revealed. She liked the feel of her hair swishing against her skin. George’s eyes lingered on her bare shoulders and then drifted up her neck to her mouth.

  ‘Thank you. You look kind of handsome yourself.’

  ‘Here.’ He gave her the chocolates. ‘These are for you, too.’

  She walked to the kitchen and put the chocolate box on the counter, before searching the cupboards for something resembling a vase for the flowers. She found a water jug and decided it would have to do. She filled it from the tap, and then, with a pair of scissors from the cutlery drawer, she trimmed the stems and arranged them. She needed the distraction to allow herself some time to think. Chocolates and flowers? What was going on? Hadn’t they made the sensible decision that they couldn’t take this any further? She leaned into the bunch of bright flesh blooms and breathed deep.

  ‘Are you cooking … is that a turkey?’ George was in the kitchen and when she turned she saw him leaning down to look through the glass door of the oven. She looked away. She couldn’t see that arse right now, as good as it was. She had to maintain some self-control.

  ‘Yes. You wouldn’t believe what I was able to find at the supermarket, even all this time after Christmas. The bird, pudding, brandy custard, the whole lot. No one will ever know that it’s January. If we try really hard we can take ourselves back a week and a bit and pretend it’s December twenty-fifth.’

  ‘I can do that.’ George reached a hand out and she slipped her fingers in his. ‘You know, what you’re doing for Abbie is above and beyond.’

  Mara’s skin goose-bumped at his touch. ‘You should know all about going above and beyond,’ she said quietly. ‘Abbie’s told me all about what you’ve done for Karen.’

  His brow furrowed. ‘Wait a minute. She did?’

  Mara nodded. ‘Those two have been getting on like a house on fire.’

  ‘So, are you telling me that Abbie already knows I’m a cop?’

  Mara took a deep breath. ‘Yes, she does. And guess what? She hasn’t run, George. I’ve been so scared she would if she found out. But that young girl has a strength I haven’t given her credit for.’

  No, Abbie hadn’t run when she’d learned the truth about George, and Mara was starting to think she might have learned something from Abbie.

  Perhaps running away from what scared you most wasn’t the answer.

  ‘If she knows I’m a cop, and she knows about what I’ve done for Karen, she must have twigged that Karen’s a cop, too.’

  ‘Apparently Karen was straight with her from that first walk on the beach. She told her about being shot, about why she’d moved down here to Remarkable Bay, and about going to rehab. I didn’t have a clue about any of this until breakfast this morning. Abbie thinks Karen is incredibly cool.’

  ‘She’s a good woman.’

  ‘Yes, she is.’

  ‘I seem to be surrounded by good women.’

  All Mara could think was what a good man he had turned out to be. ‘Abbie’s not scared of you,’ she said in a whisper, almost to herself, a quiet revelation.

  ‘I’m glad. What about you, Mara Blumberg? You feeling brave?’

  ‘Brave?’ she repeated. Is that what she needed to be? To be courageous enough to step out of her comfort zone, to open herself to someone, to put the fear of being hurt in a place where it couldn’t ruin what might be possible?

  She tried to still her racing heart. She felt like she was on the edge of a precipice, afraid of falling. ‘I’m scared of this,’ she murmured. ‘I’ve been hurt before.’

  He pulled her close, rested his forehead against hers.

  Then, the words tumbled out before she could censor herself. ‘I’m divorced, you know.’

  He took a deep breath. ‘Last time I looked that isn’t a crime.’

  ‘I might not be any good at this.’

  He looked down at her mouth, so close, a whisper away.

  ‘Ms Blumberg!’ Abbie was calling. ‘When can we open the presents? Now or after dinner?’

  ‘Now,’ Mara replied and slipped her fingers from George’s hand.

  * * *

  ‘That was absolutely delicious. I’ve never had cranberry sauce before,’ Abbie said as she cleared the half-empty bowl from the dinner table and took it out to the kitchen. ‘Or turkey.’

  ‘I hope you’ve left some room for Christmas pudding,’ Mara warned.

  They’d had a wonderful afternoon and evening. While they waited for dinner to be ready, the four of them sat in the living room and watched half of It’s a Wonderful Life, which they’d found in the DVD collection under the TV. Abbie was itching to get back to the other half of the film. Now, the sun was setting, creating a palette of oranges and pinks and purples in the huge sky, and the fairy lights strung above them and the lights on the Christmas tree lit up the room from the inside.

  George was stacking the dishwasher, Karen was talking quietly with Abbie on the sofa, Fluffy was asleep between them both, and Mara looked on at the scene in wonder. If she did one good thing in her life, as a teacher or as a person, she could help Abbie win some justice. And she could prove to a young woman that people did care about her, even if they weren’t her family.

  Maybe, just maybe, she’d been able to help. Perhaps she was a halfway decent teacher, after all.

>   Mara poured four glasses of the virgin sangria she’d made and set them on a tray, carrying it carefully to the living room. George joined them, making sure he sat next to Mara, and they each lifted a glass from the tray.

  ‘Cheers,’ George called out and lifted his glass.

  ‘Here’s to 2018!’ Mara said.

  ‘May it suck a lot less than 2017,’ Karen added with a chuckle.

  The three adults looked at Abbie.

  ‘Abbie, it’s your turn,’ Mara said. ‘What are you looking forward to this year?’

  Abbie’s eyes filled with tears. She looked at each of them in turn. ‘I’m looking forward to going to court.’

  Mara gasped and covered her mouth with a hand. George leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. Karen held a hand up to Abbie for a high five and they slapped their palms together.

  ‘Are you saying …?’ Mara couldn’t quite believe it.

  ‘Yes. I’ve been talking to Karen a lot and I want to do this. I’m ready now.’

  ‘Are you really sure?’ Mara glanced at Karen who gave her a small nod. Mara didn’t know how to thank her. Someone with problems of her own, and a complicated future to sort out for herself, had done everything she could for a virtual stranger.

  ‘I’m really sure.’

  ‘You’re a brave young woman,’ George told her. ‘I knew that about you from the first moment I met you. I want you to know that you’ll have people with you every step of the way. The police have a special unit to deal with cases like yours, and they’ll help you, Abbie. You won’t be alone.’

  ‘Damn straight you won’t be alone,’ Karen said. ‘I’ll be there for you too, Abbie. You know that.’

  ‘I know that. And Ms Blumberg? I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come to get me. And you, George.’

  ‘Tomorrow I’ll call the Child and Family Investigation Unit at the station,’ he said. ‘That’s the first step.’

  ‘Already done.’ Karen gave George a thumbs up.

  George chuckled. ‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’

  ‘Now, Abbie,’ Karen said. ‘You know I’m not officially back on duty and I don’t know where I’ll end up when I finally go back, but you’ll be in good hands. And I’ll be here in Remarkable Bay, so you’re welcome anytime to come and see Fluffy.’

  ‘Really?’ Abbie gasped in delight.

  ‘And you’ll always have a place to live,’ Mara announced. ‘I have a spare bedroom and it’s yours if you want it.’

  ‘Thank you, Ms Blumberg.’ Abbie sobbed and laughed all at once.

  ‘Hold on a minute.’ George turned to stare at Karen. ‘Did you just say when you go back?’

  Karen smiled. ‘You got me. I’m not quitting the force. How’s that for a Christmas miracle, Georgeous?’

  Mara turned to George and elbowed him in the ribs. ‘What did she just call you?’

  Karen laughed. ‘Georgeous! It’s been his nickname since the first day I met him. Gorgeous George sounded like that wrestler, so I changed it to Georgeous. And he is, rather, isn’t he?’

  Mara searched his face. He smiled at her, and it was full of promise. She decided he definitely was.

  * * *

  After dessert—a steaming Christmas pudding slathered in brandy custard—Abbie assigned herself the job of handing out the presents under the tree. Mara had chosen something small but meaningful for each person and couldn’t wait for them to see what she’d chosen.

  The first was for Fluffy. Abbie tore off the wrapping and inside was a brand new toy. Abbie squeezed it and the shrill squawking noise filled the room.

  ‘God, that’s annoying.’ Karen smiled. Abbie put it in front of Fluffy who rested her head against it and closed her eyes.

  ‘This one’s for Karen,’ Abbie announced.

  Karen slipped her hand inside the colourful Christmas-themed gift bag and pulled out a white coffee mug with a slogan that read, ‘I’d rather be drinking coffee’. All four of them burst into raucous laughter.

  ‘How very appropriate for the rest of my life. Thanks, Mara.’ Karen leaned across and hugged her.

  ‘And this one’s for George.’ Abbie passed a gift bag to him.

  He looked at Mara with a warm smile. He pulled out a book. A detective novel. ‘Thank you.’ He couldn’t suppress a grin.

  ‘Mara thought you might pick up some tips!’ Karen called out.

  ‘Is this one for me?’ Abbie held up a box wrapped in white paper and adorned with a huge red bow.

  ‘Yes, Abbie, that’s for you.’

  Abbie tore at the paper and gasped. ‘Thank you, Ms Blumberg.’ Her eyes were filled with tears and, a moment later, she wasn’t alone.

  ‘Is that a diary?’ George asked Mara quietly.

  ‘It’s a journal. I thought it might help you if you started writing things down, to get your feelings on the page. You’re a wonderful writer, Abbie. I’ve known that since you were in my Year Eight English class.’

  ‘Really?’ Abbie sniffed.

  ‘Absolutely. And I have a hunch you’ve got lots to say.’

  Abbie tumbled across Fluffy and Karen and threw herself at Mara. ‘Ms Blumberg, you’re the best teacher I’ve ever had.’

  Mara hugged her back. Over Abbie’s shoulder, she saw the look in George’s eyes. It looked something like pride.

  ‘Hang on, there’s one more thing here.’ Karen crawled to the tree and held up a white envelope. ‘It’s for you, Mara.’

  ‘What?’ Mara tore open the sealed envelope. Inside was a piece of white card, folded in two. On the front it read, ‘An invite’. When she opened it, she saw the words, handwritten, ‘Dinner?’

  She looked over at George. His eyebrows were raised in a question, his lips curved in a smile.

  Was she brave enough?

  In that moment, her heart, which had been battered and bruised when she’d arrived in Remarkable Bay, leaped back to life. A week and a half ago, she’d been lost, her professional and personal confidence crushed, her future clouded.

  And look at where she was now. Look at where they all were now.

  There was hope for all of them.

  Mara went to the sofa and sat next to George.

  He leaned towards her, close enough that his lips brushed her ear. ‘So. You want to give this a shot?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He smiled. ‘Merry Christmas, Mara Blumberg.’

  ‘Merry Christmas, George Gray.’

  Mara slipped her fingers in his and when he held her hand, she met his eyes. Behind his smile, his laughing eyes, she saw something else.

  A promise.

  And maybe a future.

  And, Mara decided, that was the best Christmas present she’d ever had.

  Turn over for a sneak peek

  THE THREE MISS ALLENS

  Victoria Purman

  Available now

  Chapter One

  2016

  Roma Harris clutched a cold collection of keys in her right hand, the sharp and unfamiliar edges digging into her palm. Her fingers were August cold, stiff and reluctant to unfurl, and the ocean winds were sweeping up off Remarkable Bay and blowing around her ears. The sleeves of her heavy woollen coat grazed her knuckles and she shivered inside it. It was winter in southern Australia, and it had been a bitter and long one; the kind of weather that sends you inside to hibernate until the first buds of spring appear on the almond trees and the winds finally swing around and come from the north and bring everyone and everything slowly back to life.

  She didn’t yet know the feel of these new keys in her hands. They were a way in to a new life in a new house. Well, an old house to be precise. An old, windswept and forlorn house in which there was more than enough work for its new owner. Roma wasn’t scared of it and had laughed when the agent (‘Remarkable Sales in Remarkable Bay’) had looked sideways at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses when she’d made an offer on the place. She knew the house, had walked past it almost every summer of her c
hildhood, but had never been inside.

  ‘It should be knocked down, in all honesty,’ he’d told her with a wrinkle of disdain on his ruddy face as he’d shown her through the property the first time. ‘If things ever take off in Remarkable Bay again—and I’m predicting they will because I keep a very close eye on the market—it’ll be the perfect place to build a couple, maybe three, modern beach houses. You know, with all the mod cons that people want these days. European kitchens, six bedrooms, three bathrooms. That’s what this town needs. More places like that. Less places like this. They’d go for two million each, I reckon. You just can’t get a view like this down here any more. Rare as hen’s teeth. God knows what happened in here when it was a boarding house and just between you and me I tried to convince the owners they should do something about the … smell. But the owner died and left it to a distant niece or some such person and she doesn’t want it, lives in Brisbane now where the winters are a whole lot kinder, so that’s why it’s on the market.’

  Roma had wondered how the agent made a living with a sales pitch so convincing and had tried not to smirk. The old guesthouse had been on the market for two years with no takers, so she’d offered low, and it was accepted overnight. She’d suspected it then but she knew it for certain now, standing in front of the place, taking in the peeling paint, the weeds like bushes in the front garden and the sad disrepair of the place: it desperately needed rescuing.

  The house was hers now and she was ready to be its saviour.

  There was simply something about Bayview that Roma hadn’t been able to walk away from. It sat facing the water in the best position on Remarkable Bay’s only main strip, Ocean Street, the old, unguttered bitumen road which met the main highway to Adelaide at one end, and the cliff tops adjacent to the bay at the other. The views from every window and door at the front of the house were spectacular. Before she could bring herself to turn the key in the lock Roma turned to the outlook and took in a lungful of air, salty and cool, chilling her as she swallowed it. Across the road there were no houses but a lawned reserve with a shining and abundant low hedge bordering it, and then in the near distance the coastline down below curved like it had been cut by a scythe; with cliffs on either end of the bay and towering Norfolk Island pines reaching into the sky.