The Cottage at Rosella Cove

by Sandie Docker

The mallet tore right through the board and hit the side of the fireplace, dislodging one of the bricks. It crashed to the hearth.

  ‘Oh, shit.’ She dropped the mallet.

  She was pretty sure this didn’t count as ‘thoughtful restoration’.

  She picked up the brick and tried to shove it back into the cavity it came from. But the next brick moved, too. With tentative hands, Nicole felt her way along edge of the fireplace. Four bricks moved beneath her gentle touch. The mortar that should have held them in place was missing.

  One by one she removed the bricks, revealing a hole. With the torch on her phone for light, she leaned into the fireplace to get a better look.

  Please, God, don’t let there be any spiders in there. Or snakes. Or even a possum.

  Inside the hole there was a box and she pulled it out, brushing the dust away. It was wooden, intricately carved with shells and very old. The lid had a name etched deep into its surface. ‘Ivy.’

  Nicole gasped. ‘Ivy Wilson’s cottage’, the lady in the hardware store had said. She gently opened the lid, revealing bundles of envelopes bound with yellow ribbon. The thick parchment was stained with the tarnish of age. As she went through the envelopes she saw the same name on each one, Sergeant Thomas Wilson, and a date.

  She put the letters back in the box. Nothing good could come of looking into the depths of someone’s personal life.

  There was a time when curiosity would have had her tearing open the envelopes. But that curiosity had died along with her previous life.

  She carried the old wooden box down the hall and placed it in one of the kitchen cupboards.

  There was a loud knock on the door and Nicole jumped. Who could it possibly be?

  Perhaps she could pretend she wasn’t home. Another knock. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. They weren’t going away.

  Opening the door just a crack, she saw the redhead from the hardware store, Mandy or Maggie or something, with a broad smile on her face and holding a casserole dish in outstretched hands.

  Nicole frowned.

  ‘Hi. It’s Mandy, remember me?’

  ‘Of course. Hello.’

  ‘Just a little welcome warmth, for dinner tonight,’ Mandy said.

  Down by the fence two men hauled whipper snippers from the back of a ute. One was a young man not long out of childhood, with the same red curls as Mandy, wearing an old T-shirt and a pair of boardies. The other was a tall man, in his mid-thirties maybe.

  ‘That’s my boy, Jack, and Danny Temple. Danny’s the town’s handyman. I thought the two of them could make a start in the garden while we have a cuppa. What do you say?’

  Mandy pushed past her and headed to the kitchen. From the overgrown lawn Danny nodded slightly in Nicole’s direction and he and Jack went into the garden and started slashing the long grass. Nicole didn’t quite know what to do. She ran after Mandy.

  ‘I can’t afford to pay them,’ she blurted out as Mandy put the casserole in the small bar fridge that had come with the cottage.

  Nicole had done a budget and she hadn’t accounted for gardening work. The stipend that came with the rental deal wouldn’t stretch that far.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry about that. The boys will do it for free and the town coffers can pay for any materials.’

  Nicole frowned.

  Mandy shook her head. ‘Sorry, I should explain. It’s Nicky, right?’

  ‘Nicole.’

  ‘Well, let me officially welcome you to Rosella Cove, Nicole. If there’s anything you need, don’t you hesitate to ask. Everyone’s pretty friendly here. You’ll see that for yourself soon enough. We had a town meeting once we heard about you renting this place and we agreed that to see this old girl sparkling back to her former beauty again, we’d help out a bit. Jack’s doing landscaping at TAFE, so he’s happy to get some experience, and Danny does a lot for the town.’

  ‘That’s …’ Nicole really didn’t know what to say. She knew country folk were generous, but this went beyond generous. Why would they help her, a perfect stranger, out like this? But, the scale of the job before her was far beyond her capabilities and she wasn’t really in a position to turn away help. Especially free help. ‘Thank you,’ she said simply, deciding not to question it.

  ‘Don’t mention it.’ Mandy moved about the kitchen as if it were her own and made two cups of tea.

  They made their way out to the front verandah that wrapped around the whole house in a wide sweep of cedar protected by a corrugated iron overhang. The discoloured paint of the weathered supports which were possibly once white, was flaked so badly the slightest touch left confetti covering their hands. Mandy gave Nicole a run-down of the town – footy every second Saturday at the oval where they also held a market, the markets usually more successful than the footy team; trivia every month at the pub, she was most welcome to join in, Lord knew Mandy’s team could do with an extra brain; art classes in the town hall …

  Nicole listened to the happy lilt in Mandy’s voice, feeling guilty she wasn’t in the garden helping the guys. Not that her lending a hand would be considered help. She’d discovered long ago that her thumbs were definitely not green.

  ‘He’s a great worker, my boy.’ Mandy looked in Jack’s direction.

  ‘Seems so.’

  ‘A good kid, too. Not that he’s a kid anymore. I was only just eighteen when I had him. I was going to study journalism, can you believe? But,’ she shrugged, ‘popped him out just after exams and here we all are two decades later.’

  Mandy’s openness made Nicole feel slightly more at ease. She’d forgotten that about country folk – their candour and lack of pretence. The friendships she’d made after moving to the city tended to be quite superficial. Most people seemed concerned about their square meterage, which private school they’d attended, their next promotion at work. At least in her corner of the city that’s how it went.

  The whirring of the whipper snippers stopped and Jack and Danny loaded piles of grass clippings into the back of the ute. The sweet smell of freshly cut grass floated on the light breeze and filled Nicole’s nose.

  ‘When we heard someone was moving into the cottage, I did a little snooping. One of my vices.’ Mandy raised her hand to her chest in a gesture of apology. ‘And once I found out your name, well, you’re Nicole Miller the author, aren’t you?’

  There wasn’t much point in lying. A quick Google search would turn up a picture of her author Facebook page, complete with photo. Nicole ran her fingers through her recently cropped hair. She tucked what she could behind her ear and it sat just below her chin.

  ‘Oh, so you are? You look a little different from the photo in the back of Tide, but that’s to be expected, I suppose.’

  ‘Yes, well it was taken a little while back.’ A few years, a dramatic haircut and a couple of extra kilos did make for altered appearance.

  ‘How fabulous to have you here. Just wait till I tell everyone we’ve got a famous author living among us. Not that they’ll believe me. Literary heathens, the lot of them.’ She giggled, her cheeks puffing out with a wide grin.

  Thick white clouds danced across the sky hiding the sun and Nicole shivered with the sudden drop in temperature.

  ‘I just loved your first book,’ Mandy continued. ‘How come we haven’t seen another?’

  Nicole looked in her teacup. ‘Oh … I guess I just got a bit … knocked off track.’ She shrugged.

  ‘Oh.’ Mandy didn’t look convinced.

  Nicole braced herself. She really wasn’t prepared to answer deeply personal questions. The pain was still too raw.

  ‘Maybe the cove will help you get your writing mojo back,’ Mandy said, and reached across to pat her hand.

  ‘Maybe.’ Nicole pulled her hand back, relieved Mandy didn’t probe any further. If only it were that simple.

  Surprisingly, Nicole didn’t have to shift the conversation. The upcoming footy match was, apparently, very important, and Mandy filled her in on the rivalry between the co
ve and nearby Woodville and the various regular characters involved, including her husband, Trevor, who coached the team. Nicole found herself laughing out loud and relaxing even more.

  When the guys finished clearing out the first section of the front yard, from the kitchen window to the letterbox, they packed up the ute and called out to Mandy.

  ‘That’s my cue to get out of your hair.’ Mandy stacked the teacups and saucers. ‘We’ll chat soon, hey?’

  In the fading afternoon light, Nicole watched them leave. It had been some time since she’d enjoyed a quiet cuppa with a friend. Not that Mandy was a friend. And there wouldn’t really be time enough for her to become one. Shame. Nicole had forgotten how nice it could be to just sit and chat. Even if the other person did most of the chatting. A soft smile touched her lips.

  Well, she’d taken the first and hopefully hardest step to rebuild her life. And that was something.

  Wasn’t it?

  March, Two Years Ago

  ‘To Nicky.’ Mark raised his champagne glass in salute and the small group at the table followed his lead. It was fitting that they celebrated Nicky signing a publishing contract in the tiny Vietnamese restaurant she and Mark had been in when her agent, Di, had rung with the offer. Nicky looked at the faces smiling back at her. Jane could barely contain her excitement. Di filled up the champagne glasses once more and Mark’s friend Robert patted him on the back.

  ‘To great stories.’ The cheer went up again. She’d done it. She was getting published. Well, they’d done it. It was as much Mark’s success as hers. Without him none of this would have happened.

  She listened as he told the story of how she’d collapsed into his arms when she got the book contract, his chest full, eyes beaming with pride. It didn’t matter if he was exaggerating. She hadn’t actually collapsed into his arms, but she had hugged him tightly. She hadn’t actually cried for an hour, but she had shed a tear. Though he did deserve some credit. He was, after all, the reason her manuscript got in front of Di in the first place, using his connection to Robert, who happened to be Di’s neighbour, and he was all too happy to share this in his speech.

  ‘Sounds like we should be toasting Mark, too,’ Jane called across the table and glasses were raised once more.

  Over the steady din of the busy restaurant, Nicole fielded questions. Jane – when will the book be out? In about twelve months. Di – when will the next manuscript be ready? Nicky was working on it. Robert – how much was the advance? None of his business and a stern look from Mark.

  The waitress, dressed in a deep blue áo dài tunic, bowed as she placed the bill on the table.

  ‘Why don’t we head to Currie’s dessert bar?’ Jane suggested.

  ‘Great idea.’ Nicky stood. She wasn’t ready for the night to end just yet.

  ‘Just a second.’ Mark’s voice cut through the excitement. ‘There’s one more thing.’

  He got up from the table and dropped to one knee in front of her.

  ‘Nicky.’ From his pocket he produced the most beautiful ring Nicky had ever seen. ‘Will you marry me?’

  Cheers erupted from the table as Nicky nodded, unable to speak. Mark stood and picked her up, kissing her intently. They were swarmed by their friends coming in for pats on the back. Jane appeared at Nicky’s side and wrapped her in a quick, tight embrace. ‘I’m so happy for you,’ she said. ‘Everything is falling into place.’

  Mark slipped between them, draping his arm around Nicky’s shoulder. ‘Did she show you the ring?’ he asked Jane.

  ‘Can’t miss it,’ Jane said warmly.

  The sapphire-cut diamond sat large on Nicky’s finger. Her cheeks went red as Jane held her hand up, admiring it once more.

  ‘Maybe we should take a raincheck on Currie’s,’ Jane said. ‘You two probably have other things you want to do tonight.’

  ‘Oh, but …’ Nicky looked up at Mark, who was gazing at her intently. She knew what that gaze meant. She turned back to her friend. ‘Okay. But promise me we’ll catch up properly soon.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Jane, and kissed her goodbye.

  Mark trailed his fingers through Nicky’s hair. ‘Is she okay?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Nicky said with a frown.

  ‘I don’t know. She seemed a bit … off.’

  ‘Off?’

  Mark nodded. ‘Yeah. Just that look she gave you on the way out.’

  Nicky had noticed the frown on Jane’s face, but didn’t really think much of it.

  ‘She wouldn’t be jealous, would she?’ Mark asked.

  ‘Of the book? No way.’ Jane couldn’t be jealous. She was almost as happy about it as Nicky was.

  ‘Of that? Of us?’ He shrugged.

  Nicky stared at the door of the restaurant, as if she could still see Jane’s silhouette weaving through the dark night outside. There was nothing about her best friend’s behaviour that seemed odd. At least, she didn’t think so. Maybe the wine had gone to Mark’s head. Though, she did make a comment about Nicky not having time for old friends anymore now she was going to be famous. But that was just a joke. Surely.

  Back at their flat Mark dragged Nicky into the bedroom.

  ‘Come now, my fiancée. Show me how much you love me.’

  Nicky liked the sound of that. His fiancée. She belonged somewhere now. With someone.

  He kissed her strongly and they fell into bed.

  In the dim light of the moon Nicky sat on the balcony wrapped tightly in a blanket. Mark had fallen asleep hours ago but she was still restless, the excitement of the night still buzzing through her. She pulled out her phone and looked at the last picture of her mother, taken in the nursing home, just after her seventy-seventh birthday.

  It made Nicky’s heart ache that her mother wouldn’t see her get married. At thirty, Nicky wasn’t exactly old, but her parents had had her so late in life. They were forty-seven and fifty-five when she was born, and by then they’d all but given up hope of having children. Nicky was their miracle baby and they were wonderful parents. But they weren’t young and two years ago her dad had a heart attack. Then the following year her mum was diagnosed with cancer. And just like that, Nicky was alone in the world. No siblings. No family.

  But now she had Mark.

  His soft snoring floated through the apartment and she hugged her knees tight to her chest, savouring the sound.

  She opened her Messenger app and typed out a quick note to Jane. She was sure there was nothing to Mark’s earlier concerns, but Jane was the closest thing to family Nicky had after Mark, so it was better to be safe than sorry.

  ‘Hey. Sorry about bailing tonight. Are you free next Thursday? Coffee?’

  She looked at her screen and held her breath. No response.

  Of course not. It was the middle of the night. Jane was probably sleeping. Nicky was worrying about nothing.

  She climbed back into bed beside Mark and wrapped her arm around his chest. She would be up in a few hours for her early writing stint and really needed to get some sleep. Unaccustomed to wearing much jewellery, the ring on her finger felt heavy and strange and she stared at it in the dark, smiling until slumber finally came.

  Three

  Nicole stripped the last of the paint from the fireplace as the midday sun streamed through the old leadlight window in the living room, casting pools of rose, olive and lemon light across the cedar floorboards. She’d got up at five to clean the last of the dust from the windows throughout the cottage and then started on the next task on her list.

  Danny had offered to restore the fireplace as a labour of love, a personal interest project, and Nicole had to get it prepared. The carved mantelpiece, aged and chipped, was supported by damaged columns and scrolls. The cracked tiles of the hearth lay dull, with life beneath waiting to be freed. In the middle of the lintel Nicole could see something carved into the stone.

  Was it an insignia? She’d seen it some place before.

  She ran into the kitchen and pulled out the old box she
’d found hidden in the fireplace. There it was, the same lettering on the lid. And each envelope was sealed with the identical ‘I&T’ in wax.

  She’d seen it elsewhere, too. On the bench outside the boatshed. A spark of interest sizzled and Nicole shoved the box back in the cupboard. No. She couldn’t read those letters. They were someone’s private thoughts and she had no right.

  Standing back in front of the hearth, Nicole tried to imagine it restored to its former glory. How many nights had Ivy sat in front of a warm fire, reading a book maybe, or knitting perhaps? Had she sat there alone? With the Thomas from the letters? With a brood of noisy children swirling around her feet?

  She took a dustpan and brush and swept up the last remaining dirt, making sure she got right into the back corners of the fire box, thick with ash and tiny debris. The brush caught something heavy. Heavier than the piles of ash she’d been sweeping up. She fingered through the pile and pulled out a small piece of wood. It looked singed, but not burned. She turned it over in her hand. A spinning top perhaps?

  A knock interrupted her contemplation and she ran into the kitchen and put the relic in the same cupboard as Ivy’s letters before opening the door.

  Danny stood on the other side of the screen in his King Gees, toolbox in hand. His well-defined jawline, warm smile and sandy-coloured hair were quite a combination. Tall and strongly built, he looked every bit ready for the work that lay ahead.

  He’d brought Jack with him, who was going to do some work in the garden.

  ‘Thanks for this.’ Nicole let him in.

  ‘No worries.’

  Danny set to work in silence. His first task was to stabilise the chimney and flue. ‘No point restoring this beautiful old girl,’ he stroked the mantle, ‘and having the lot come down on her.’

  As he worked away, Nicole made a start on stripping the master bedroom’s wallpaper. The old glue was stubborn to remove and it took her quite a while to find a good rhythm, and then once she did, she’d lose it again, battling with the old paper. If only stripping the wallpaper was all that was necessary. Her new best friend, Google, had given her detailed instructions on the washing and preparing of the walls after the paper had been removed before you even thought about slapping on some paint. She really wasn’t looking forward to those steps.