by Lilly Mirren
“Even though it makes the most sense,” muttered Reeda, with a shake of her head that flung wet tendrils of hair that clung to her bare neck.
“She’s right,” interjected Kate. “I don’t think we should sell either. The best thing would be to keep the inn closed for now until we can get it in top shape, then have a grand reopening or something. We can do this.”
“And I believe the two of you would be better at managing the renovation than I would,” added Bindi with a smile. “I’m happy to look after the books and all the administrative side of things. And when the inn is back up and running, I’ll handle the day to day, take care of the guests, and all the things Nan used to do.”
“Well, that’s fine with me, I like the idea of managing the construction, if you’ll help me,” replied Kate, inclining her head in Reeda’s direction.
Reeda nodded. “Okay, I can do that. But I can’t stay in Cabarita forever, I do have a husband and a business back in Sydney. I don’t want to be away for too long.”
“I’m sure he misses you,” replied Bindi with a sad smile.
Reeda dipped her head and mumbled something beneath her breath like, He’d better, but Kate couldn’t be sure what she’d said. Kate shook her head. What was going on with her sisters? Not that she could say anything, her entire personal and professional lives were a hot mess.
She sighed. “I can help Mima in the kitchen.”
Mima glanced over her shoulder with a chuckle. “And I would sure appreciate it. My legs get tired these days, and I’d love the company.”
“That’s perfect,” said Bindi, with the most genuine smile Kate had seen her offer in weeks.
“And I can handle the interior design and pick out all the furnishings and decor for the place,” said Reeda with a nod.
“I’d hoped you would say that,” replied Bindi. “It’s going to be perfect.”
“I don’t know about perfect,” replied Reeda, “but we’ll do our best and see how we go.”
“I have a good feeling about it,” replied Bindi.
“Me too,” added Kate. “After all, when the money comes through from Nan’s estate, we’ll have plenty of funds to sink into the place. And who knows, with a bit of a facelift, maybe it’ll turn into a hot destination for holiday makers.”
“Well, between us, we can certainly get a few people from the major cities to come and visit, and then maybe word-of-mouth will help us,” responded Reeda.
“Once Reeda and I head home, it’ll be you, Mima and Jack taking care of everything,” Kate prompted Bindi. “Are you sure you’ll be able to handle it on your own?”
Bindi laughed. “You still see me as the baby of the family, don’t you?”
Kate shrugged, her lips puckered. “I guess so, I can’t help it. You’re my little sister.”
“I’ll be fine. I’m more capable than you realise.”
“I know you’re capable, I worry about you, that’s all.” Kate didn’t like the perpetual gloom that’d lingered on her sister’s face over the weeks they’d all been living at the Waratah.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ve got everything under control,” replied Bindi.
15
September 1995
Cabarita Beach
Kate’s stomach was so full she couldn’t lay on it to read Nan’s diary at bedtime. She groaned and rolled onto her back, patting her tummy gently with one hand. Perhaps she shouldn’t have gone back for seconds, especially when Mima was serving pavlova with cream for dessert. She’d have to slow down on the delicious food if she was going to be able to fit into her clothes.
She reached for the wooden box on the bedside table where she’d left it earlier and pried open the lid. The letter from Nan rested on top of the journals as though taunting her to read it.
She still hadn’t opened the letter. No doubt, Reeda and Bindi would’ve read theirs already. Reeda’s curiosity would’ve driven her to it, and Bindi always did the right thing without having to think about it. Kate was the one who took her time, weighing her options, wondering, hoping, worrying.
She still wasn’t ready to see what Nan had written. Guilt played through her gut, making it turn over. Would Nan remind her of how little time she’d spent with her in recent years? The pain of that reminder was too much to think about.
Besides, there were plenty of other things to do, busy things, urgent things, now they were keeping the inn. Although, Reeda was still determined to try and change Bindi’s mind on the subject. Kate was certain she’d fail, and they might as well face the task ahead — perhaps the renovation would be more than all three of them could manage anyway, and the Waratah would be sold off whether they wanted it or not.
Kate pressed her lips together. She couldn’t put it off forever. Something inside her wanted to postpone reading Nan’s final words, since once she read them, she wouldn’t ever hear from Nan again, even if the sound of her voice was only in Kate’s mind.
With careful fingers she pried open the envelope, not wanting to destroy the seal placed so lovingly by Nan on the flap. Then she tugged two sheets of paper free.
The writing, more familiar than ever, since she’d begun reading Nan’s journals, stood out in black ink on the white page.
* * *
Darling Kate,
* * *
If you’re reading this, then I’ve gone on ahead of you to the next stage in the great journey of life.
I wish… so many things. I wish we could’ve had more time together, shared more laughter and tackled greater adventures.
I’ve left the Waratah to you girls, as I’m sure you knew I would. You’re my family, the only family I have left, and I couldn’t imagine anyone better to carry on taking care of the one last piece of earth that holds my heart.
The inn was my salvation at one time. It was a dream I had as a girl, that took me a long time to claim and changed a few times, but once I did, I never looked back.
I know you might be divided over what to do with the place, but can I ask this one thing of you? Please take care of it. Bring it back to its former glory. Don’t leave it as it is. I couldn’t bring myself to do anything to change the place once your Pop, Dad, and Mum were gone. There were too many memories haunting each room that I didn’t want to let go of.
I long for your sisters and you to become the family you once were again. It breaks my heart to think of you facing life alone. You need each other, now more than ever; make sure you do your best to restore those connections.
If you decide you want to sell it, I trust your judgement. I’m so proud of you, my darling granddaughter. Prouder than you can imagine.
You have so much life in you. Don’t settle for second best, always shoot for the stars, because that’s where you belong. I wish I’d done more of that myself — wish I’d never let go of my dreams, never second-guessed what was in my heart. If only I’d believed in myself and the ones I loved. But none of us can go back in time, we can’t rewrite the past. So, treasure each moment, my darling.
With love, Nan xo
* * *
Tears dripped from Kate’s nose and chin, hitting the paper, and leaving wet marks where they landed. She folded it quickly away and pushed it into the envelope, then lay back on the bed, hands pressed to her face.
Oh Nan, I wish we had more time too. I should’ve visited, taken you on a trip to Europe, sat in the breakfast nook and had tea with you one last time.
With a sigh, she set her feet on the floor and straightened, then wiped the tears from her cheeks. The box was still on the bed beside her and she picked it up to push the envelope back inside, this time next to the journals, along one edge.
Her fingers pressed to something rough on the bottom of the box. She turned it over and saw something etched there. It wasn’t in the neat style of the carvings that covered its surface, but as though it’d been whittled with a blunt knife.
She held it up to the dull glow that emitted from the bedside lamp and squinted.
Letters, there were
four letters with the shape of a heart drawn around them.
* * *
CJ
EW
* * *
Charlie Jackson and Edith Watson, it had to be them. Kate traced the outline of the initials with the tip of one finger, her heart pounding. Had Charlie made this box for her grandmother?
Kate shook her head and set the box on the bedside table, her stomach already churning with nausea at the thought of what was to come if she continued reading. Not tonight — not after reading Nan’s letter. She wasn’t sure how much more emotional turmoil she could take. And with everything that was going on in her own life, she had no more tears to cry that day.
Mum and Dad were gone, she barely knew Reeda or Bindi any longer. Something was going on with both of them but neither seemed to want to talk about it, and she had no right to pry. She’d lost that right when she let herself drift out of their lives, years earlier. And then there was Davis, the man she’d agreed to marry, but who wasn’t returning her calls. Her heart felt heavy thinking about him — was it right to marry a man because he fit all the criteria on paper? Or, should she hope to find the kind of love Nan and Charlie had shared?
She stalked to the window and peered out into the darkness. The sound of the ocean calmed her spirit and she inhaled a long, slow breath, her pulse returning to a normal pace. The gum tree outside her window had grown over the years until one of the branches almost touched the wall by the window and another, higher up, brushed the third-floor roof.
Two bright eyes above the nearest branch reflected the light from her room back to her. She squinted and tried to focus her eyes in the gloom. A pink nose, a bushy tail and reddish fur — it was the possum. Her possum. The one that’d destroyed Nan’s garden and scratched around in the inn’s roof.
“Go find a tree to live in,” she hissed, waving a hand at the creature.
It stared back at her, unmoving.
“Go on, get outta here!”
The possum looked away, as though it’d grown bored of her, then walked down the branch to the trunk and disappeared down beneath another branch. Kate frowned, there had to be something they could do about that possum, even if Mima didn’t think there was. Maybe she could find out where it was getting into the roof and block up the hole. She’d have a word to Bruno when he began construction, likely he’d be able to find and plug the possum’s entry into the Waratah Inn.
16
January 1942
Bathurst
Waves of heat emanated from the farmhouse’s tin roof. Sheep dotted the parched paddocks, and the leaves on some of the peach trees curled in on themselves. Inside the farmhouse, shouts bounced off the walls.
Edie covered her ears with her hands, her eyes squeezed shut. She couldn’t take it anymore. Why didn’t Father understand? He didn’t know Charlie, not the way she did. Charlie wasn’t the person he thought. Why couldn’t he see that?
She straightened, and pressed her hands to her forehead, her father paced back and forth across the dark, cramped living room in front of her.
“But Daddy, we love each other,” she cried, her voice wet with tears.
Her father stopped pacing and stood in front of her with his hands on his hips, his face thunderous. “You love each other? You’re sixteen years old.”
“Plenty of people get married at sixteen,” she objected.
“I thought you wanted to finish school. That’s all I’ve heard from you for years — you want to finish school and go to university, as if money grows on trees!” He spat the words like they were poison.
“I can get my certificate at the end of the year. We’ll be married after that. And then we’ll go to university in Sydney together.”
“How are you going to pay for university?” shouted her father. He faced her mother with an upward wave of his hands. “This is the kind of daughter you’ve raised?”
Her mother stood in silence, both hands laced together in front of a white apron.
“I don’t know how we’ll pay for it,” Edie continued, “but we’ll find a way, I guess.” He was being unreasonable. These weren’t the things that mattered. Love was what mattered.
“Well, don’t come asking me for money. I’m not throwing my hard-earned money down the drain by sending a girl to university to study science, of all things.”
Edie spun about, tears streaming down her face. She saw Charlie then, through the gap in the curtains and her eyes widened. He gave her a nod.
The sight of him strengthened her resolve. It didn’t matter what Father and Mother thought, or what they said. She and Charlie loved each other. They’d get married, go to University, and build a beautiful life together. They’d be successful and happy, and they’d do it far away from here.
When Father had finally finished yelling at her, he strode outside and slammed the door behind him. She peered through the curtains and saw him heading for the shed. He’d be there until teatime if history was any indication.
Mother disappeared into the kitchen soon after, without a word. She didn’t like to get involved in conflict, but Edie knew what she thought. Mother supported whatever Father said, regardless of what Edie wanted. She wished Mother would support her, just this once.
As soon as Mother was out of sight, she hurried out the front door, being careful not to make a sound. She crept across the verandah and down the timber steps, then ran down the hill towards the creek.
Tall yellow grasses waved in the summer breeze. The sun beat on her head and sweat trickled down the sides of her face. Through the peach orchard, with trees whispering overhead and birds calling and swooping between their branches, she considered their future, and a smile crept across her tear-stained face.
When she reached the creek’s bank, she saw him. He’d pulled off his suit jacket, undone his tie and shoved it into his pants pocket, opened the first few buttons of his shirt, and rolled up his sleeves. Then, he’d flung himself in the grass, plucked a long piece of it from the ground, and chewed on the juicy end while he waited.
She threw herself at him, kissing his face, his neck, his lips, all at once, while tears slipped from her face. She tasted their salt. Her hands cupped his cheeks, and she straddled him, her skirts splayed out around them, her knees pressed into the dirt on either side of his body.
He laughed and kissed her hard. “Whoa, slow down.” He pressed his forehead to hers, their eyes connecting.
“Did you hear him? He says we can’t get married, he’s never gonna let us be together,” she cried, pain ripping at her heart.
“I heard him, but he won’t always have a say in how we live our lives.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know what to do. I love my parents, and I don’t want to hurt them.”
“Why does he hate me so much?” questioned Charlie.
“He says you’re a bad influence. I don’t know why. He’s wrong, I know he is. I don’t know why he can’t see you the way I do.” She kissed him again, all at once feeling frantic and bold.
He sighed against her mouth. “He’ll come around, they both will. Soon as you’re old enough, we’ll marry and then they won’t be able to say a thing about it.”
She blinked, and her eyelashes shone with tear drops. “We should get married now. I don’t care what they say.”
His jaw clenched and he sat up, spilling her onto the ground beside him. Then he set his elbows on his knees, as he stared out across the fields beyond the creek. What was he doing? Something was wrong. There was a pain in his eyes she hadn’t seen before.
“We can’t.”
She smoothed her skirts over bent knees. “Why not? Why can’t we?”
“I enlisted,” he said, simply. “I joined the airforce.”
She cried and she begged. But it was too late, he told her. He’d done it, and he’d be leaving the next day. They should treasure the moment, their last evening together. He didn’t know how long he’d be gone, but it shouldn’t be later than Christmas. He’d be back in time to g
o to university, then they’d go to Sydney together and build the life they’d talked and dreamed about.
Charlie pulled her to her feet and tugged a wooden box from the satchel slung over his shoulder. He held it out to her. Its carved surface looked warm. She studied it, her tears slowing. He’d whittled some of her favourite birds on the sides and Eliza’s long, slender face on the lid. She took it in her hands, her eyes still half-blinded with tears, and smiled.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Open it,” he said.
She lifted the lid free and a small, tin ring shone in the harsh light of the sun.
He knelt before her, smiled as he took her hand in his.
“Edie Watson, will you marry me?”
She cried out, her heart filled with joy, and reached down to kiss him. They stood, both pairs of lips still joined, and he wrapped his arms around her.
“Did you say yes?” he laughed.
She nodded. How could she say anything else but yes? Her heart belonged to him. Always to him. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”
Then he slid the ring onto her small, pale finger. “I’ll come back for you, I promise. We’ll get married, and we’ll be together forever, and no one will be able to stop us.”
She sobbed against his chest and issued a muffled wail into his shirt. Then, when she calmed and the empty hollow feeling of resignation stole away her tears, he stroked the hair from her face and they talked about all the things they’d do, where they’d get married, what they’d name each of their four children and how their life together would look.
Then, as the sun set beyond the sweeping fields of dry, brown grasses and the cicadas set up a chorus of humming, they kissed and held and loved each other for the first time beneath a line of blooming waratah trees with the sound of the creek bubbling and chattering over rocks at their feet and with tears wetting both their cheeks.
