The Cottage at Rosella Cove Page 14

  Gentle conversation fell over the group, and Nicole observed her friends with a sense of contentment. She had no idea this had been missing in her life. This extension of warmth and connection they all seemed to share. For so long it had just been her and Mark, isolated within their own relationship, no one else close. And when that life ended, there was nothing, no one.

  Nicole skirted around the edges of this friend group, afraid to get too close, to touch it, want it and then have to leave one day not too far away.

  Jacqui left first to race home, complaining that her mother always said she was happy to babysit, but always looked pointedly at her watch whenever Jacqui and Jason returned. This was the first time they’d convinced her to watch the boys since Amy was born and Jacqui didn’t want to risk alienating her.

  Cheryl joined Jim at the bar, and Mandy kissed Nicole goodbye on the cheek and headed off to visit with Carole.

  And then Nicole was alone with Danny.

  ‘I’ll walk you out.’

  He led her to the doors of the pub and Nicole braced herself against the cold night air. He put his arm round her shoulder, briefly rubbing it, and removed it once they were walking up the street.

  ‘I can walk with you if you like. Bit of protection.’

  Nicole laughed. ‘It’s not Kings Cross in the nineties. I think I’ll be okay.’

  ‘Well, no, it surely isn’t. We haven’t had a drug-related stabbing in at least a few days.’ He grinned. ‘But you obviously haven’t heard of the Cove Pirate.’

  Nicole stopped walking and turned to look Danny directly in the eye.

  ‘This ought to be good.’ She smiled. ‘Out with it then.’

  ‘Well.’ Danny lowered his voice and started walking, not breaking eye contact, drawing Nicole along in his path. ‘Legend has it that on nights exactly like tonight, when celebration is afoot …’

  ‘Afoot?’

  ‘Yes, afoot.’ He grinned. ‘When celebration is a-foot,’ he emphasised the word, ‘the Dread Pirate … Pete, most fearsome in his time, wanders the streets of the cove looking for his lost love.’

  ‘Dread Pirate Pete?’ Nicole raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Well, he wasn’t fearsome for his name, though his name did strike fear in the heart of any who heard it.’

  ‘I’ll have to take your word for that.’

  ‘It was his insatiable appetite for pretty young ladies that frightened all who were unlucky enough to know his name.’

  ‘Really?’ Nicole couldn’t help but giggle. ‘Sounds like most young men I know.’

  ‘You misunderstand me, dear lady. Appetite,’ he said. ‘Ap-pe-tite.’ He smacked his lips together.

  ‘Oh, I see.’ Nicole feigned sombreness.

  ‘His count was near a hundred when one day, he landed here, on South Beach, and came to feast on the young ladies of the town. He came across a young lass, like yourself, walking, just like you do now, and he had his mind fixed on what he’d do with her. But then …’ he paused dramatically.

  ‘But then?’ Nicole had to play along now.

  ‘Just as he was about to raise his sword to her, she asked how the day’s sailing had been, can you believe?’

  ‘I barely dare.’ She gasped, raising her hand to her chest in feigned shock.

  ‘She didn’t scream or cry, but kept a straight face. He answered and then she asked another question. And another and another, each question more interesting than the last. Before he realised it, the dawn was about to break and his heart had been stolen. Never before had he felt love,’ Danny paused, ‘nor would he again.’

  ‘Oh, do go on.’ Nicole grinned.

  ‘The young girl’s father happened by, right as the lass was stealing Pete’s heart, and realised just who was sitting beside his beloved daughter. He picked up the pirate’s own sword, which was on the ground in the dirt, and charged him, piercing him right through the gut. The Dread Pirate Pete was killed just as he was about to declare his love for the maiden and carry her away on his ship so they could wed.’

  ‘How terribly tragic.’ She raised her hand to her chest in mock drama.

  ‘To this day,’ Danny continued, ‘on nights exactly like this, exactly as it was a hundred years ago, with the night sky so dark and fluid, the ghost of the Dread Pirate Pete wanders the streets of the cove, looking for his lost love, so he can finally sail away with her.’

  ‘Wow. For someone who doesn’t read, you sure can spin a yarn.’ Nicole’s smile broadened.

  ‘Mock me at your own peril. The story is true as I’m standing here.’ He stopped dead in front of her and her momentum forced her to stumble into him, her hands to his chest.

  ‘Well, then, maybe you’re right.’ She stepped back, her cheeks flushed. ‘Perhaps I should have an escort. We’re halfway there already, so you may as well stick around.’

  ‘It’s the only wise thing to do.’ He put his hand on his chest.

  ‘If you’re ever looking for a book deal, I’ve got a lot of contacts in the world of fiction,’ Nicole said teasingly.

  ‘Fiction?’ Danny raised his voice. ‘Fiction?! I should leave you to him.’

  ‘Now don’t do that. After an effort like that you should at least see it through.’

  ‘It worked though, didn’t it?’ Danny winked.

  ‘I guess it did,’ Nicole replied with a laugh.

  They talked right up till they reached Nicole’s door, and she had to admit, she didn’t entirely dislike the company.

  ‘Thanks for walking me home.’

  They stopped on her front verandah. Danny brushed her fringe to the side and his green eyes looked into hers.

  Nicole could feel the heat rising over her skin as Danny’s hand lingered against her neck and she drew in a sharp breath.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, casting her eyes down.

  ‘Is everything okay, Nicole?’

  She nodded. ‘Of course.’ She shoved her hands into her coat pocket. She didn’t dare look into his eyes.

  ‘Right, then.’ He cleared his throat and gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. ‘Goodnight.’ He headed back down the steps and out the gate.

  As she entered the cottage, she knew she somehow had to put out the heat that enveloped her. Maybe Ivy could help with that.

  15th December, 1946

  My Dearest Tom,

  The festive season is upon us and you will never believe what Lucy has me doing. We are making decorative angels to give away at the church’s Christmas stall next week. We are using all manner of objects to make them – gumnuts and leaves, newspapers and fabric scraps, cleaned-out tin cans – whatever we can scrounge. I never considered myself at all creative, as you are well aware, but Lucy has a real gift. I mostly help her with gluing and tying things under her direction. I am not sure I am of any help, but she never complains. And the hours we spend together creating them are such fun.

  It is a hard time for both of us and I suspect the choice of crafting angels and not stars or baubles is her not-so-subtle way of helping me through my grief. She sees right through me and knows that I have not yet come to terms with losing you. I try not to analyse things too deeply, though, because I know that if I did, I would come to the conclusion that Lucy also realises I still carry the burden of our angel baby much too heavily around my heart. And that is something I much prefer to keep deeply buried.

  Mother and Father have joined me at the cove for the holidays and it is a relief to have our activity as an excuse to be gone from the house for hours at a time. Mother thinks it is trivial, a waste of time. She also insists that if I must continue to make the ‘ridiculous things’, then I should be selling them rather than giving them away, even though she is adamant they are not worth a half-penny.

  Lucy and I know, however, how a simple gesture at this time of year can lift a damaged spirit, especially after all our little town has lost. I hope our angels, meagre as they are, will spread at least a bit of cheer this year.

  I am trying to ignore Mother as be
st I can. She does not like me going about in bare feet and insists I wear shoes in her presence. It feels strange now, but I oblige her for the sake of peace. Thankfully she and Father will not be here long, as Mother has plans to spend time in Melbourne with some of her new university friends over the summer. Father speaks at night of his students and lectures. He seems very happy. I shall miss his quiet company once they are gone.

  It is yet another holiday without you. Will these ever get easier? The birthdays, anniversaries, Christmases? So many people have told me time heals as though that is supposed to be a comfort. They never say how much time, though, do they? And what if healing means forgetting you? I do not ever intend to stop thinking about you.

  There have been whispers of bringing back the Spring Dance, now that we are no longer at war. It will of course be one more celebration to remind me you are not here. I remember so clearly that night at the Spring Dance where we met. The horror on Mother’s face as we danced, how devastatingly handsome you were, how nervous I was. But, it may not ever happen. Not if Joan Wetherby has any hand in the matter. She is vehemently against the idea of bringing the dance back. Says dances are folly and nothing but trouble. Did she not enjoy them when you were at school together? I wish I had known you then.

  I shall not linger long, my love. Lucy entrusted me to finish two angels on my own tonight and their little wings are beside me waiting to be attached. They are quite endearing, these angels, I must admit. Mrs Li has been very generous and gifted us some beautiful paper to use on the wings. They are covered in a red and gold pattern that shimmers under candlelight. Perhaps these wings will help a lost soul’s dreams take flight, or give hope to one who has lost theirs. Is that not what Christmas is about? Hope.

  I miss you, my dearest, so very much.

  Forever yours,

  Ivy

  With each letter Nicole fell in love a little more with Ivy, the same way she’d fall for characters in a book. Only this wasn’t a novel. It was real life. Ivy’s real life. A life Nicole wished she could be part of, instead of having to live vicariously through decades-old words.

  If only she could step through the parchment and back in time and leave her own world behind. No Mark, no pain, no heartache.

  No Dread Pirate Pete or Danny. She smiled, her cheeks flushing again at the memory of their walk home.

  Stop that. Stop that right now.

  Fourteen

  Danny arrived on time the next morning, ready to help Nicole put up the cornices. Or at least she thought he had. But instead of his usual work clothes he was wearing a very casual outfit and a mischievous smile.

  ‘How do you feel about playing hooky today?’ Danny asked as he strode down the hall.

  ‘Er …’

  He grabbed Nicole’s shoulders and steered her towards the door.

  ‘But —’

  ‘But nothing. Your lists will be there when you get back.’

  He pushed her through to the verandah.

  A yelp of protest died in her throat as she felt the morning sun bathe her face in sunlight. By the time they got to his car and Danny had opened the door for her, she couldn’t deny being outside was a much nicer prospect than renovations.

  They stopped at a red light – it was the only set of lights in town. Mandy walked past on the opposite side of the road and waved at Danny before noticing Nicole in the passenger seat. She smiled and gave Nicole a cheeky little wave as Danny opened his window. The light turned green, but he didn’t move. Nicole was surprised when the car behind didn’t beep, but simply moved round them.

  ‘Hey, you two. Where are you off to?’ Mandy walked over to Nicole’s window and leaned in.

  ‘Thought I might show Nicole here the tracks.’

  ‘Bit of a rough ride.’ Mandy looked at Nicole. ‘But the tried and true thing to do for fun round here. Enjoy.’ She looked back to Danny. ‘Be careful. The top track hasn’t dried out properly from the last rain.’

  Nicole frowned. ‘You’ll be perfectly fine.’ Mandy assured her. ‘No better driver than Danny. Have fun.’ She smiled and watched them pull gently away as Danny eased on to the accelerator.

  As they passed an old man hobbling along the pavement, Danny slowed down. It was the same old man he’d helped outside the post office that day during Nicole’s first month in town.

  ‘How ya doing, Bill?’ he called out.

  Bill nodded and smiled.

  ‘You have to love that man,’ Danny said. ‘He’s a stalwart of the footy club, and our only returned war vet.’

  ‘Oh.’ Nicole turned around to get a better look at Ivy’s William Tucker. ‘I know,’ she said absently.

  ‘You’ve met?’

  ‘Sort of.’ Nicole watched the figure from Ivy’s life fade as they drove on. ‘He’s been at the games, right?’

  ‘Every one of them.’

  ‘So where exactly are we heading?’ Nicole asked.

  ‘Best place in the cove. You’ll love it.’ He smiled broadly at her and she relaxed some more.

  Leaving the sealed roads of civilisation five minutes out of town, the gentle up and down of the bumpy dirt track was a fitting setting as Nicole listened to Danny tell stories of what he and his mates used to get up to in the bush around them when they were teenagers. Trapping goanna, collecting fallen branches and building forts, climbing the tall trees and jumping down beside unsuspecting bushwalkers, frightening them silly.

  They turned a corner and her grip on the doorhandle tightened as the track (she assumed they were still following a track, though she couldn’t see one) got rougher and rougher.

  ‘You might want to hang on now, Nicole,’ Danny said. ‘It’s going to start getting bumpy from here. We’re taking a little side trip off the tracks.’

  ‘Off the tracks?’ She looked at him with wide eyes.

  He simply shot her his confident, cheeky grin and winked.

  She giggled as they jerked and jolted and slid and spun. It was either giggle or cry and she didn’t want to show any fear.

  Moving between excitement and terror with each impact, she looked over to Danny a few times and he appeared calm and in control, which was at least somewhat comforting. But the fact that he was silent for the first time since leaving the cottage both reassured her and worried her at the same time.

  And then, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, Danny stopped the vehicle and beeped the horn. Nicole took a few deep breaths and looked around.

  ‘I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but how is this,’ she circled her hands, ‘the best place in the cove?’

  She looked around again in case she’d missed something. Nope. Trees, shrubs, twigs, dirt. The same scenery they’d been driving through for the past twenty minutes – only thicker beyond this clearing.

  ‘Well, we’re not there yet. The rest of the way is by foot.’

  Danny got out of the car and went round the other side to open Nicole’s door.

  ‘Come on. Just a little walk past there.’ He pointed to what was possibly the largest tree Nicole had ever seen.

  ‘I believe I’ve seen this movie.’ Nicole stayed put. ‘It doesn’t end well for my character.’

  Reaching out his hand, Danny laughed. ‘You’re safe – I’m not a murderer.’

  ‘Said every murderer ever.’

  ‘Besides.’ He smiled. ‘You’re Mandy’s friend and she and Trev are like family to me. You don’t mess with family.’

  Nicole took his hand.

  They walked for fifteen minutes, Danny with such purpose that Nicole could only assume he knew exactly where he was going. To her it all looked the same. Then they came to another clearing and Nicole stopped to look around.

  ‘This is amazing,’ she gasped.

  ‘Pretty cool, huh?’ Danny whispered in her ear and stood beside her.

  Stretched out below them was the entire town – the clock tower of the post office reaching tall in the centre, the wide main street lined with buildings whose awnings formed a pastel r
ainbow, the houses clustered in pockets around the town centre, the peninsula jutting into the ocean.

  ‘That’s …’ Nicole pointed to the north.

  ‘Yep. Your place.’

  It looked tiny from where they were, but it was clearly identifiable, perched alone on the northern bulge of coastline. Nicole could also make out the boatshed and the stretch of sand below it.

  The deep blue of the sea bled into the green border of bush and trees that gave way to the white and grey and orange of the town that sat like a pin cushion on the soft quilt laid out below her.

  She turned to Danny and smiled. ‘Thank you.’

  He winked. ‘Come and sit down,’ he said, pointing to a granite boulder in the middle of the clearing.

  As she was taking her seat, Nicole thought she’d caught a glimpse of a familiar figure disappearing down a thin track off to the side. She started.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Danny said. ‘That’s just Charlie.’

  ‘Charlie?’

  ‘Yeah. The guy that lives in the boatshed. Not that you’ve probably met him. Keeps to himself good and proper.’

  ‘We’ve met.’

  ‘You have? Well, don’t let him scare you. That,’ he pointed to a thin opening in the scrub that was barely visible, ‘is the other, less fun way to get up here.’ He smiled. ‘This is a fair way off the known tracks and Charlie and I are the only ones who know about this spot. Far as I can tell, anyway. Well, and now you. It’s Charlie’s spot, really. He comes here all the time. Or he used to, though not so much anymore. But we have an understanding. That’s why I tooted before. In case he was up here, to let him know I was coming. As long as I don’t do it too often, he doesn’t mind. At least I don’t think he does.’

  So, this is where Charlie comes.

  ‘I first stumbled, literally, on this place after Grandpa died.’ Danny sat beside her, looking at the town below. ‘We were close, Grandpa and I. It was the day of his funeral. I was upset and I ran off into the bush one day. Found this.’ He spread his hands. ‘Tripped right over this.’ He patted the boulder.