Bungalow on Pelican Way

by Lilly Mirren

  Inside the house, she hung her straw hat by the front door, then sucked the ends of her fingers, worn almost raw by sorting bullets for hours on end, while she scanned the room.

  “Mother?” she called.

  Pots banged together in the kitchen and she followed the sound. Her mother was looking for something, her brow furrowed and nostrils flared in the way that Edie knew meant trouble.

  “What’s wrong, Mother?”

  Her mother straightened, pressed her hands together and exhaled a short, sharp breath.

  “Your father has enlisted in the Militia.”

  Edie’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “Yes, he will be leaving us as well, it seems.” Her mother’s eyes flashed, but otherwise she retained her cool, calm demeanour. She was a lady, and a lady kept her temper, something she’d tried hard to impress on Edie, without as much success as she would’ve liked. She’d never said as much, but Edie knew it was true.

  Her father strode into the kitchen, dressed in a brand-new militia uniform. He brushed his shoulder with one hand, as though dust might have settled there on his walk down the stairs.

  “What do you think?” he asked her mother, with a head dip in Edie’s direction.

  “It’s very handsome,” Mother replied, with a tight-lipped smile.

  Father nodded. “Good afternoon, Edie.”

  “Father — are you really joining the Militia and leaving us alone?” she asked before she could think of something more fitting to say.

  “You’ll have each other, and I can’t think of anyone more capable of running this farm than the two of you. Besides, I’ll be back whenever I can. I don’t believe I’ll be stationed too far away, so I’ll try to see you every now and then.”

  “You don’t know where they’ll send you,” snapped Mother.

  Edie’s mouth gaped. She’d never heard Mother say anything other than a gentle or kind word to Father before in her life. It wasn’t like Mother to behave that way, and her breath caught in her throat as she waited on Father for a reaction.

  He surprised her by cupping Mother’s cheek with one hand, more affection than he’d shown in as long as Edie could remember. “Oh Diana, don’t worry so.”

  The basket swung on her arm as she walked through the orchard. The year’s harvest was over, but Father had asked her to walk between the trees to make sure there were no peaches left in the branches or laying on the ground. They’d mummify or rot and cause trouble for the next year’s crop.

  Father had already set the ladder out for her against one of the trees. She climbed it and studied each branch, plucking any old or half-grown fruit that remained behind, and setting it in her basket.

  How would they manage this place without Father or Bobby? She’d always worked hard and done chores, it was one of the things her parents had stressed for both their children over the years, but her chores had been more to do with managing the house and feeding the family. She’d learned to darn, knit, crochet and mend. But not to crop sheep tails. She knew how to polish the timber floor so it shone, and the best way to remove a stain from a shirt. But had never called out the dogs to round up their herd for shearing or dipping. Never pruned the peach trees or fertilised them with the right mixture of… she wasn’t sure what Father used.

  She’d seen it done of course, many times over the years, but was watching the same as doing? She pushed her fingers to her lips and made a breathy sound — she didn’t know how to whistle the way Father and Bobby did when they were sending out the sheep dogs around the back of the flock. Would the dogs listen to her?

  And what would she do when the baby came?

  She inhaled a sharp breath as she climbed down the ladder. Then she set the basket on the ground to move the ladder to another tree, resting it up against the tree trunk with a shake to make sure it held fast.

  She’d only recently turned seventeen and the idea of having a baby, of raising it, sent a shiver up her spine. She didn’t have nieces or nephews, no younger brothers, or sisters, no one to show her how to do it. No one other than Mother, and she knew Mother wouldn’t be happy about the baby coming.

  Despite all that, it sent her pulse racing to think about the little bundle growing inside her. Edie was happy. Fear pulsed through her veins alongside anticipation — she and Charlie were having a baby. They’d love it and raise it together and be a family. If only he were here now, everything would be all right. He’d hold her, stroke her hair away from her face and tell her so.

  She climbed the ladder as high as she could manage and picked the shrivelled and stunted peaches, stacking them in her rapidly filling basket.

  One brown looking peach hung out of reach. She’d have to move the ladder again, or perhaps she could stretch a little farther. It tickled the end of her fingertips and she grabbed for it, lurching farther to one side. Beneath her, the ladder swayed, and Edie clutched at it with both hands to steady it. But the bottom of the ladder slid out from under her and she came crashing to the ground with a loud squeal, as her basket flew from her arm.

  Peaches scattered in every direction as Edie landed with a thud in the dirt, her stomach impacting hard on the ground, her hands splayed out on either side.

  “Edie?” her mother’s voice floated from the direction of the house. “Edie? Where are you?”

  She couldn’t respond. The wind had been knocked from her lungs by the impact and she winced as she rolled onto her side and gathered her knees to her chest.

  The baby.

  Pain shot through her side like a knife slicing at her gut. She clutched at the pain, rolling back and forth as groans erupted from her mouth. Was that noise coming from her? Darkness flooded her vision making it seem as though she was at the end of a long tunnel with only a pin prick of light at the other end. Then she caught sight of her mother’s feet running in her direction, and it brought a sob to her lips.

  “Edie!” called Mother again, as she dropped to her knees by Edie’s side. “Did you fall? Are you hurt?”

  Edie couldn’t answer, only rolled from side to side, clutching at her stomach and groaning. The pain was too much. She felt a wetness soak against her back where her skirts were clumped beneath her.

  The thudding of footsteps as Father joined them.

  “What happened, Diana?”

  “She fell, Frank. Let’s get her to the house.”

  Then darkness closed in and the light faded as Edie’s conscious mind flitted away from the pain.

  19

  October 1995

  Cabarita Beach

  It took two tries to get Kate’s Honda to start. The key turned and the engine made a whirring noise but didn’t ignite until the second try. It’d been sitting out in the cold for too long without being used. She hardly had need for a car at the inn. Nan’s truck was best suited to most things that needed doing around the place, and Reeda had her hire car. Bindi had returned her car to the carhire office at the airport, since she planned on staying at the inn permanently. She’d asked Reeda to drive her to a car dealership to pick out something suitable, which meant that Kate and Mima were home alone at the inn on a Saturday morning.

  With the renovation project well underway, Kate and Mima had plenty of mouths to feed, and since it was the weekend, Kate had decided to drive to Tweed City to stock up on supplies for the week ahead. She’d tried to tell Mima they didn’t need to feed the workers a hot lunch every day of the week, but Mima wouldn’t hear of it. She said they’d do a much better job if they were warm and satisfied rather than cold and hungry, and Kate couldn’t argue once she caught a glimpse of the determination in the older woman’s eyes. She knew better than to pick a fight with Mima — the woman’s gentle, good-humoured stubbornness was a force to reckon with.

  Kate had promised to show Mima how to make Thai Beef Massaman on a bed of coconut rice from scratch, using the inn’s slow cooker and a handful of fresh herbs and spices. Mima was intrigued, but not entirely convinced they should introduce some of the Asian inf
luenced food that was Kate’s specialty into the Waratah’s kitchen. Kate wasn’t sure it was the right fit either, but she’d been working on putting together a menu that fit the historical atmosphere of the elegant, old property, along with some Asian fusion influences to give it a more modern, typically Australian, edge.

  The car crawled along the gravel driveway and out through the gates. The sign that hung by the gate was held in place only by one rusting chain from a timber post, the other chain had broken and hung limp from the top of the sign that now swung, lop-sided, with the wind.

  Jack stood on a step ladder next to the sign, hammering a second post into place beside the old, weathered one. This one was fresh, new and had that raw timber look that the stables had since she and Alex rebuilt them. She slowed to a halt and wound down her window to offer him a wave.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  He tipped his hat in her direction. “She’ll be right, love. Just getting the ‘closed’ sign fixed up.”

  The inn had been officially closed for weeks now, but every now and then they still had the occasional foot traffic coming in from the main road, looking for a place to stay. They hoped this sign would turn people away before they tromped through a construction zone, seemingly oblivious to what was going on around them.

  She gave Jack the thumbs up, and stepped on the accelerator, heading north along the narrow highway as she wound the window back up.

  Winter was over and spring was definitely making itself known. The cold weather had been replaced by a steady, stifling heat.

  Nan used to say, there’s no spring up here, only a few weeks of winter, a week of perfection, then a long nine-months of summer. She was right, as always. Summer was the default setting for northern New South Wales, and it was worse in Brisbane. Hot, dry, and humid all at the same time.

  She slipped out of her cardigan and threw it on the passenger seat as she drove. Then she fidgeted with the air conditioner settings to see if she could get the car to cool down. It’d been colder inside the inn, all those dark rooms and cracks between the wide, timber floorboards. The contractor assured them he’d be working on better insulating the building as part of the renovation, and she was looking forward to lower heating and cooling bills. From what Bindi told her, the electricity used at the inn was a major financial drain on the Waratah’s profitability. They intended to install solar hot water and gas to run the brand-new stove they were having shipped from Melbourne.

  Just as she got the air conditioner set to the right temperature, a car whizzed by her in the other direction, buffeting her own vehicle and sending her onto the verge. Gravel shot up behind her car, ricocheting out from under the wheels and into the brush that lined the road.

  She swore beneath her breath, then steadied the wheel, steering the compact SUV back onto the road, as her mind raced to identify a nagging thought. She recognised the car, and the driver behind the wheel.

  Her eyes widened — Davis!

  By the time she’d slowed the car to a halt and turned around, there was no sign of his car. He must have been headed to the inn, but why hadn’t he told her he was coming? She set off after him, even as she glanced in the rearview mirror and ran fingers through her lank hair; she could’ve done with some warning.

  Up ahead, she found the car pulled onto the verge. He must’ve recognised her as well. She aimed the Honda to park behind his Lexus, gave her hair one last fluff, and climbed out.

  His door opened and a blue-jean clad leg emerged, followed by the rest of Davis, with his perfectly groomed brown hair, wide brown eyes, and pale, smooth skin. There was a crease between his brows below a pair of reflective Ray-Bans, pushed up onto his forehead.

  She waved, as nerves wrestled in her gut. What was he doing here? And without saying a word to her about coming?

  She kissed his lips, a soft peck, and he patted her back. The exchange felt a little awkward. She pulled away and offered him a warm smile. “Davis, I wasn’t expecting you. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I could’ve… well, brushed my hair for one thing.” She laughed, a little titter that warmed her cheeks with embarrassment. He was her fiancé for heaven’s sakes, she was acting like a schoolgirl who’d never seen a boy up close before.

  Granted, it’d almost been two months since she’d last seen him. She’d been planning on visiting him in Brisbane tomorrow. He knew that, they’d talked about going out to eat at their favourite restaurant, taking a walk at Southbank, rock-climbing at Kangaroo Point in the evening. So, why was he here?

  “I wanted to surprise you.”

  She laughed again. “Well, you did. I was coming to see you tomorrow…”

  “It was time I drove down. I should’ve come sooner. I know I said I would…”

  “Multiple times,” reminded Kate, her throat tightening. Almost every weekend he’d promised to travel south, but always gave an excuse at the last minute. She didn’t want to hold it against him, but something inside her said there was a reason for it. He loved her, at least he said he did. He’d asked her to marry him, and yet he hadn’t been able to find the time to drive two hours south to see her in two months.

  It had to mean something.

  “Where does this path lead?” he asked, pointing to a sandy trail beside them. It meandered through patches of spiky grass and disappeared between two large sand dunes.

  “It goes to the beach, I expect,” replied Kate with a shrug.

  “Let’s take a walk,” said Davis.

  She frowned. “Here? Now?”

  He nodded, then locked his car and pushed the keys into his jeans pocket. He reached out a hand in her direction and she took it, then followed him down the path.

  “What’s going on, Davis? Why don’t you come back to the inn with me? I’ll brew a pot of tea and pull out some of Mima’s scones, we can sit outside under the gum tree in some uncomfortable and very rickety garden chairs and talk there.”

  He laughed. “This is fine. Actually, there’s something I want to talk to you about, so I’d rather not go to the inn and face everyone yet.”

  “No one’s there but Mima,” she continued.

  He shrugged, but didn’t say anything else, just continued trudging forward through the sand.

  When they reached the beach, he released her hand and pushed his fingers through his hair, staring at the curling waves, the spray of water and the swooping gulls. His gaze travelled up and down the length of the beach before he sighed, his shoulders drooping. He slid the sunglasses back into place over his eyes.

  “It’s so beautiful here.”

  She inhaled a sharp breath. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. You need a holiday. We could fish, eat, talk, swim… whatever you like. It’s what we both need. Since I lost my job, my stress levels have dropped… some time out is what I’ve been wanting.”

  He faced her, pressing his hands to his narrow hips. “No, it’s not what I need. Look, Kate, I don’t know how to say this, so I’m going to come out with it.” He sucked in a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair until it stood wildly on end, completely unlike its usual, smooth, brown styling.

  Her breath stuck in her throat. She fixed her gaze on his face. “What is it?”

  “I’ve met someone else.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Kate. It hasn’t worked between us for a long time. You’ve been gone for two whole months, what did you think was going to happen?”

  She frowned, then swallowed. “I thought my fiancé would be supportive of the fact that I have a lot going on here. Things I have to take care of. I can’t run away back to Brisbane and forget about my responsibility to my family.”

  He snorted. “Family? Kate, I’ve barely heard you mention any of these people before now. You’re hardly a close-knit family, are you? And I’m assuming you’ve decided to let your career go entirely?”

  Her eyes widened. “What does it matter to you?”

  “I pro
posed to a beautiful, smart, connected up-and-coming chef, Kate. Now look at you? You’ve lost your job and from what I can tell, you’re not looking for another one. What are you doing with your life? Are you going to stay down here and run a bed and breakfast? Is that who you are now? You haven’t brushed your hair…” He threw both hands in the air.

  She glanced down at the shorts and T-shirt she was wearing. There was a smudge of yellow paint on one knee. Her hair fell loose around her cheeks, and she knew there wasn’t a stitch of makeup on her face, since she hadn’t worn more than lip gloss in weeks.

  “I thought you loved me,” she whispered.

  He sighed. “I did love you, Kate, but it was a different you. And you haven’t been around. I’ve met someone else, moved on. You should too.”

  As tears pooled in the corners of her eyes, she tugged the diamond ring from her finger and handed it to him. “Here, you’ll need this for your new girlfriend.”

  His lips tightened. “Don’t be like that…”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, as the stone in her gut grew. “Go home, Davis. You don’t belong here.”

  He took another look around, then cocked his head to one side. “It is really beautiful.”

  She huffed. “Goodbye, Davis.”

  He walked away as the tears slid down her cheeks. She didn’t want him to see her cry, so she brushed them away with the back of her hand and pushed out her chin. He turned back to wave, then disappeared around the bend of the trail. Then, she let the tears fall.

  How could she have loved a man like that? He wasn’t the person she’d thought he was.

  She spun about to face the water, inhaled a long breath, slowing her heart rate back to a normal pace. She was better off without him if that was how he felt about her. Like she was some kind of trophy for him to parade around to his corporate friends. No wonder he’d been so frustrated with her in recent months when she’d chosen to spend her evenings relaxing at home in front of the television rather than attending his many, upscale soirées. She’d hated those parties. Always the same people, the same conversations, and the latest fashions. She couldn’t keep up with it all and had no desire to.