The Cottage at Rosella Cove

by Sandie Docker

  She has decided to declare our lonely situation an emergency and this is her solution.

  I cannot go to Italy!

  She has the entire trip planned. She has family over there and we are to stay with them. And, you will not believe this, we shall be undertaking an art course. An art course! You well know I can articulate the history and technique of any given masterpiece, but to actually produce art, or anything resembling it? You would have thought that she would have learned from our Angel experience. Apparently not. A friend of her cousin runs the course and she has been corresponding with him in order to secure our places.

  She has even taken it upon herself to arrange time off for me. My arrangement with Father Anthony is rather flexible.

  If I were to agree, if, we would go during the European summer. But what would become of the cottage, of the boatshed? I did raise this issue with Lucy, believing it would end the idea, but she had a plan for that too. Another cousin of hers, just arrived from Ireland, or some such story, would love to house-sit. How many cousins does this woman have?

  It is madness, is it not? Me, in Italy, doing art courses!

  Though, I have to say the pictures Lucy showed me were beautiful. And she is so excited it is hard not to get swept up in her enthusiasm. I do not wish to disappoint her. And it might be nice to have something to look forward to.

  There are elements to the idea that sound fun. Eating genuine Italian food in small trattoria; going to the museums; seeing the Ponte Vecchio.

  Maybe I should go. It cannot hurt, can it?

  I am sitting on our bench as I write this. The sky is a lovely shade of blue and the sun is warm. Autumn again, my love. I can feel you sitting here beside me, watching the ocean. Your toes are playing in the grass and the gentle breeze teases your brown curls. You are so content. So distant.

  I know what you would say. You would tell me it was high time I enjoyed myself and an adventure was just what I needed. A wild, crazy adventure.

  Yes, my dearest, perhaps I will head to Italy. Wish me luck.

  Forever yours,

  Ivy

  It was no good. Not even Ivy could save Nicole from Mark intruding every thought she had. Kissing Danny had released all the emotions she’d been bottling up for so long now; it had forced her memories to the front of her mind.

  Oh God, this is what Mark had reduced her to. His lasting legacy no matter what Nicole did, no matter what she could ever do. He’d always be there in her head.

  March, This Year

  For the last three months Nicky had shut down, withdrawing from Mark, turning off her emotions. And he hadn’t even noticed. At what point had she lost herself? The ectopic pregnancy? Before that? The months since?

  All she knew was that she no longer existed, and the only way to live again was to leave.

  She kept her freelance editing work secret and slowly she’d saved some money. All she had to do now was find somewhere to live.

  Nicky opened her laptop and scrolled through a house-sitting website. It was a good option. No cost, moving every couple of months. Trouble was, none of them were available immediately. She’d have to hang on a bit longer. God, she didn’t know how long she could keep this up.

  She clicked on the next listing. ‘Unique property, available now.’ She read the post, her enthusiasm waning as the details emerged. Free rent. But there was a catch: ‘some renovation needed’. Damn.

  Her shoulders slumped.

  She sent an email to the agent anyway. It couldn’t hurt. From the pictures it looked like it only needed a lick of paint. She might be able to manage that.

  They responded three days later, saying all the paperwork was ready and she could have the keys once she signed, but she told them she had to think about it. Who was she trying to kid, thinking she could renovate anything? The whole sorry situation she found herself in was already pathetic. She didn’t need to add ridiculous as well.

  Two nights later Mark came home from work, a large bunch of roses in hand.

  ‘I think it’s time we reset the wedding date,’ he said. ‘What do you think about June?’ He kissed her on the top of the head and she frowned at him.

  ‘What now?’ He threw his hands up in defeat.

  Nicky wondered if there was even the slightest chance of saving this relationship. ‘You still want to marry me?’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘And children?’

  He shook his head. ‘I’m going to bed. Let me know tomorrow if June works for you.’

  In the morning Mark kissed her on the forehead as if nothing had happened, as if nothing had changed. For him it hadn’t.

  But it had for her. She could not live like this anymore.

  Nicky rang the number to see if the rent-free cottage at Rosella Cove was still available.

  She packed a suitcase full of clothes and looked around the apartment. Other than her laptop, everything belonged to him. She grabbed a plate and some cutlery from the drawers and turned her back on home.

  She swung by a solicitor’s office to pick up a key to the cottage and got into her old car and headed to Rosella Cove.

  Back at Mark’s apartment, in the very middle of the clear dining table, she’d left her engagement ring with a simple note.

  ‘It’s over. Goodbye.’

  Twenty-one

  Nicole walked around the cottage, taking in the scope of what she’d already achieved. Everything was stripped back, plaster repaired or replaced, new cornice and skirtings, bookshelves, window frames ready. The fireplace was fully restored. Okay, she couldn’t take much credit for that. And the kitchen was complete – credit also not hers. The floors were fully sanded and polished – she was definitely going to take credit for that. All that remained to do in the other rooms to finish them off was a couple of coats of fresh paint.

  She just had to pick a colour and apply it to her clean fresh walls. All of them. No small job. Today’s task was to finish the undercoat. By late afternoon she could tick the spare bedroom and hallway off her list. As the last shards of evening light filtered through the bay window in the living room, Nicole lifted Ivy’s next letter back out of the box. Her old friend’s life was coming together, which was more than she could say for her own mess.

  2nd July, 1957

  My Dearest Tom,

  It will come as no surprise to learn that I have failed miserably in my efforts to become a Renaissance artist, though I must admit the attempt has been more fun than I imagined it would be. I have laughed more in these past few weeks than I have in ever so long.

  Lucy is also glowing, though I suspect it has more to do with our rather dashing young teacher, Fabricio, than our stunning surroundings or the sun that has kissed our skin with brown. His passion for art is quite infectious. And while I clearly have no talent, his gentle humour even has Old Dowager Kendle smiling when she thinks no one is watching. She is one of the other students here, and she has done her best to break our spirits with her pious attitude and scathing criticisms of our work, but she has not succeeded. How can any of us take note of her bitterness when we are immersed each day in such sweet beauty? Max, a rather loud Texan, who at first meeting you would never think would be interested in art, has even abandoned trying to turn her round. He is perhaps the most talented artist amongst us.

  Fabricio has politely suggested I might wish to try another creative avenue and has a friend who teaches sculpture in the evenings. Do you think I could be any worse at that than I am at painting?

  So, I am continuing with my art lessons in the morning, mostly for the company, and then I wander through the shops and cafés in the afternoon. Sometimes I find a tiny museum to explore on my own while Lucy and Fabricio visit art galleries. She says they are only friends. He is married, after all. I believe she is concealing the truth of her feelings from me. But who am I to judge? If she is happy, I am happy.

  From Monday I will begin the sculpture class at night. We may yet unleash a hidden talent.

 
Please stop laughing.

  I must remember to thank Lucy for dragging me here. We are already talking about a trip for next summer.

  I have included a photo of Lucy and I with our latest paintings.

  I miss you, my love.

  Forever yours,

  Ivy

  Nicole ran her fingers around the edge of the small black and white image.

  Lucy had a gentle smile and dark hair cropped around her ears. She held up a portrait and Nicole could just make out the hint of mischief in the eyes of the subject. Was this Fabricio? Nicole smiled.

  Ivy’s smile was broad and her hair was wild and whipped around her face and neck. Her painting, a landscape, was lopsided with the perspective completely askew.

  The two women looked so happy.

  Nicole’s phone pinged to life, echoing in the silence.

  The same Sydney number as before? Damn call centres. Maybe, if she answered it she could tell them, in no uncertain terms, to leave her alone. She looked at the flashing screen. Should she?

  No.

  She picked up the handset and pushed the green button.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘Nicky, princess?’

  His voice shot through her ear and her heart leaped against her chest. She hung up, threw the phone across the room and ran out the front door.

  Behind her she could hear the phone ring again as she ran down the path as fast as she could.

  By the time she saw Charlie it was too late and as she tried to stop from colliding with him she slipped on the loose dirt beneath her bare feet and crashed to the ground.

  ‘What the hell?’ Charlie shouted at her. ‘Are you deliberately trying to run me down, you lunatic?’

  Nicole didn’t answer. Her torso heaved, her sobbing becoming louder.

  Charlie knelt beside her and softly put his arms round her.

  ‘Come on, now. This is no place to burst into hysterics.’ He gently rose, pulled her to standing, and led her to the side of the boatshed where the deckchairs were.

  ‘Sit.’

  Nicole obeyed and took a tissue to blow her nose. Her nose always ran excessively when she cried. ‘Nicky’s Niagara Nose’, Mark called it.

  Mark! She sobbed again.

  Charlie sat beside her in silence.

  ‘I should’ve gone overseas.’ Nicole spluttered through sobs.

  Her hands were shaking. ‘What’s this about?’ Charlie asked.

  Nicole shook her head. ‘I have to leave.’ She couldn’t face him. Not after everything that had happened.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I have to go. I have to leave town.’ If he’d found her number, it was only a matter of time before he tracked her down. One thing Mark wasn’t lacking in was cunning and determination.

  Charlie put his hand on Nicole’s shoulder as she tried to stand up. ‘Stop. Breathe.’

  She shook her head, more vigorously. He didn’t understand. ‘I can’t. I have to …’

  ‘Stop.’ Charlie looked her in the eye. ‘I know a little about running. It isn’t the answer.’

  ‘But …’ Nicole sucked in deep breaths.

  ‘You have friends here. Whatever this is about, they can help you.’

  No. They couldn’t. They wouldn’t. Friends she’d known for life had abandoned her. Why would friends she’d known five minutes stand by her?

  ‘I get it.’ Charlie shook his head. ‘It’s easy to turn the world away. But once you do, there’s no turning back. No matter how you wish you could. And whatever romantic notion you might have about this kind of life,’ he spread his arms to encompass the boatshed, ‘this ain’t romantic at all and the pain never stops. Never. Running isn’t the answer.’

  ‘I can’t …’ Nicole ran up the path, casting long shadows in the dusk.

  She returned home and curled up on the sofa. Pain throbbed at her temples. The evening was quiet bar a few possums scuttling about in the trees outside. The only light in the house came from the dim side lamp next to her.

  She hadn’t turned the phone back on, hadn’t answered her door when Mandy dropped by, instead cowering in silence in the dark, pretending she wasn’t home.

  Was Charlie right? Would her new friends stand by her?

  If she ran, would Mark simply find her again?

  Confusion, doubt and anger swirled around her head and she rubbed her temples. She jumped up from her seat and dashed around, gathering only the important things, throwing them into the suitcase she kept under her bed.

  She rushed through the living room and stopped in front of the bookcases. Danny’s gift sat there, alone on the shelf.

  ‘You’ll know when the time is right.’ His words echoed in her mind.

  She pulled at the ribbon.

  A single tear fell as she looked at a brand-new copy of Anne of Green Gables.

  She’d only mentioned it once in passing when he was building the shelves and he’d remembered. He’d remembered such a small detail. A detail so significant to her.

  She slid to the floor and pulled her knees up in a tight hug.

  Charlie bumped into the dusty box labelled ‘kitchen’ and rubbed his throbbing hip. Stupid old thing. He should have thrown it out years ago. Thrown all of them out years ago. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He’d always held out hope that one day these relics of a time so long ago would be useful once more, cherished once more. But today it seemed that hope was fading.

  He’d seen the fear in Nicole’s eyes. The girl was going to run. He didn’t know what from, or where to, but he knew what that resolve looked like. He had his own selfish reasons for needing her to stick around. He had a promise to fulfil and he needed her to finish what she’d started with the cottage.

  But there was something else. Something that surprised him. His heart broke for her when she sobbed like that, feelings welling inside him. He thought he was done with feelings, but all he wanted to do when she cried in his arms was protect her, make things right.

  He closed the boatshed door behind him and trudged over the peninsula and through town.

  Twenty-two

  Nicole rocked back and forth on her bed, cradling Ivy’s box. Moonlight shone through the window, the only light she needed to escape into Ivy’s letters, to stop her tumbling thoughts.

  10th July, 1957 … It would appear Fabricio was right about me trying sculpture. Even I can see we are a better fit. I may even produce something worth keeping before our time here in Italy is done. No laughing …

  Nicole sighed.

  If she fled again, could she take Ivy with her? Then again, it didn’t seem right to take her from her home.

  She opened another letter.

  30th July, 1957 … I caught Lucy kissing Fabricio behind the ruins today. I was looking for inspiration for my latest assignment, but this was not quite what I had in mind. I did not reveal myself and have not told Lucy I saw them. She will tell me if and when she is ready. Did I mention he is married? …

  And another.

  August 15th, 1957 … We leave fair Tuscany in a few days and I must say I am apprehensive to return home. I have felt so … so light since being here, and I fear the heaviness I left behind will reclaim me once we are back. Though, I do return with a new hobby, a new passion, perhaps, and maybe that will be enough to buoy my spirits.

  Lucy is very sad. She and Fabricio seem to have become quite close, despite the years (and spouse) between them. At first I thought it was merely a harmless flirtation, but I believe it has grown into something more substantial …

  And another.

  17th October, 1957 … I have sold my first sculpture. It is an angel, standing serenely, looking to the sky. Mrs Hays bought her for her daughter Carole and she suggested I make more and sell them at the Christmas stall this year. I am flirting with the idea.

  When I sculpt, I am at peace. I am returned to Italy. I am calm.

  I shall not charge much, mind you. Just enough to cover the materials. Joan has voiced her disapproval �
�

  ‘Nicole? Are you home?’ Danny’s deep voice shattered the silence.

  He couldn’t really be there. It was just her imagination.

  ‘Nicole?’ he shouted again.

  She stood on wobbly legs and shuffled to the front door.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  Danny smiled. ‘Charlie was worried about you.’

  ‘Charlie?’

  ‘He asked me to come and see you. You look awful.’

  With that, Nicole broke down and Danny caught her in his arms.

  Nicole had no idea how much time had passed. All she knew was she’d sobbed into Danny’s shoulder endlessly and he didn’t budge. He didn’t complain. He didn’t force her to tell him what was wrong. He just held her until her tears subsided.

  ‘Is there anything I can do?’ Danny asked, leaning back.

  ‘It’s just …’

  He waited.

  He pulled her closer and his lips hovered close above hers.

  Nicole’s heart began to beat faster and her stomach tightened. Desire coursed through her and she put her hand on his strong chest, felt his heart pounding against her fingers.

  But then fear seized her and she swallowed hard. ‘I … I’m sorry.’ She pushed him away gently. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Whoever he was he really hurt you, didn’t he?’

  Nicole nodded.

  ‘Maybe if you let me in, Nicole …’ Danny’s eyes pleaded. ‘Whatever he did, I’m not him.’

  ‘No. You’re not. And it scares me. When you’re close to me, when you touch me …’

  ‘I frighten you?’ He frowned.

  ‘No. Not you. The feelings you stir in me.’

  ‘Isn’t that a good thing?’ He smiled.

  Nicole ran her fingers through her hair. How could he possibly understand? She had to make him see.

  ‘Breathe, Nicole. Just talk to me. It’s just you and me.’ He took her hand in his.