The Banksia Bay Beach Shack Read online

Virginia moved around the shack, tidying up shelves, sneaking glances at the newcomer here and there out of the corner of her eye. Her hair was almost the same colour as . . . Stop it.

  It’s just a coincidence. She kept repeating that over and over to herself. You silly old fool.

  Ian was rambling on about who knows what, surfing probably. Or fishing. Laura had the good manners to at least pretend to be interested.

  As Virginia moved towards the coffee machine, Laura looked back at her, an obviously forced smile plastered across her face. Virginia gasped. She’d seen that look before.

  No. This was no coincidence. The face, the hair, the expression.

  All reminders of that summer when everything changed.

  December 1961

  ‘Hurry up, Lily. The fish won’t wait forever.’ Gigi banged on the window of the little wooden house her parents rented out to tourists every summer. Lily was always slow in the mornings. Definitely not an early riser like she was. Gigi had already had breakfast, done her chores, been for a long walk along the sand, collected twenty-seven seashells, picked up the bait from Ian, got their two fishing rods ready, stolen a fresh roll from the bakery while Mrs Andrews wasn’t looking – the evidence of which she brushed from her overalls – and caught three sand crabs in her red plastic bucket and placed them as sentinels on her carefully constructed sandcastle. They’d abandoned their post as soon as she’d sat them on the battlements, though. Crabs could not be trusted.

  And Lily still hadn’t even got out of bed. That was a life of privilege for you. When your dad was a prominent politician and you had money to spare, Gigi supposed, you could get up whenever you liked.

  Every summer it was the same. Gigi up before dawn, Lily bemoaning the fact she was on holidays and had a right to sleep in.

  Gigi tapped on the window again. ‘You know what my dad says. The best time to catch leatherjacket —’

  ‘— is just before the breaking dawn.’ Lily threw the curtains back and poked her tongue out at Gigi. ‘And how many mornings have we got up early?’

  ‘Five.’

  ‘And how many fish have we caught?’

  Gigi put her hands on her hips. ‘That’s not the point, Miss Lillian Woodhouse. It’s an adventure. We won’t have too many more summers like this one, you know?’

  Lily smiled. ‘I know, Miss Virginia Gilbert. That’s why I got dressed fifteen minutes ago.’ She climbed through the window, jumping down beside her friend.

  Arm in arm they strolled down the beach to the rocks on the north side. They’d been fishing the same spot for five years, ever since Gigi had forced Lily to be her friend.

  As morning gave way to day, they lay on the rocks, warming their bodies in the sun.

  ‘Well.’ Lily threw her hands in the air. ‘Yet again we didn’t catch anything.’

  Gigi giggled. ‘I know. But it was still fun.’

  She rolled over onto her side and from far down the beach she could see a young man striding towards them.

  Lily sat up straight when she saw him coming, and Gigi copied her.

  He walked with an assuredness that Gigi assumed meant he was heading for them deliberately. He was good-looking, she’d give him that. And well-dressed. Maybe he knew Lily.

  She turned to look at her friend for some sign of recognition, but there wasn’t one. Just a strange grin plastered across her face. A fake smile she’d never seen her best friend wear before. Maybe that was just how one greeted a handsome stranger. She mimicked Lily – the expression, pushing her chest forward, crossing her legs. But she felt ridiculous. Besides, overalls and unbrushed hair hardly matched the forced façade. She slumped back down and fiddled with her fishing rod.

  ‘Excuse me, ladies.’ The man took off the straw pinch-front fedora he was wearing and bowed slightly in greeting. ‘I’m sorry to intrude. I was looking for a Miss Lillian Woodhouse.’

  Lily stood up and Gigi followed.

  ‘That is I,’ Lily said, in a voice so posh Gigi nearly spat out the gum she’d been chewing on.

  ‘Ah. Wonderful. I’m Richard Prescott. My family and I are holidaying here this summer. Our fathers are acquainted and suggested you might be able to show me around town a bit.’

  ‘Oh, I’d love to.’

  There was no hiding the red in Lily’s cheeks. Gigi coughed, rather loudly, just to remind her friend she was there.

  ‘Oh. This is my friend Gigi. She’s a local and I’m sure she’d be happy to accompany us too.’

  Gigi tried to hide the horror she felt and hoped her eyes weren’t as big as they felt. She absolutely did not want to show this intruder around. Besides, she had every moment with Lily planned out. When you only got to see your best friend for a few weeks a year, you made the most of it.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Gigi.’ Richard held out his hand and she took it. She might not be fancy like these two, but she wasn’t rude. His skin was soft and his handshake gentle.

  ‘Nice to meet you, too. Some of the boys are having a fish fry-up tonight. You could join them, if you like.’

  ‘That sounds neat. Will you ladies be going?’

  Gigi went every year. Alone. ‘Lily doesn’t like —’

  ‘Yes. We’ll be there,’ Lily interrupted. ‘And then we can discuss some other activities for while you’re here.’

  ‘Sounds great.’ Richard winked.

  Lily hit Gigi on the hip and Gigi gave Richard the details of the fry-up before he strode back down the beach.

  ‘I’ve been trying to get you to one of Ian’s fry-ups for the last three years. You said you hated the smell.’

  ‘Well, that was before.’ Lily’s gaze was held steadfastly on the retreating Richard.

  ‘Oh.’ Well, if it meant getting Lily to the fry-up, then she supposed she couldn’t complain. Ian, her dad’s boat hand, was famous in these parts for his fry-ups. Best fish cook this side of Sydney. Even better than her dad. Not that she ever told either one of them that.

  Gigi and Lily packed up their gear and walked back to the holiday house. As they approached the white picket gate, Lily turned to Gigi.

  ‘Will you do me a favour tonight?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Will you wear a dress?’

  Gigi was pretty sure she’d jump into a volcano if Lily asked. Luckily there were none in Banksia Bay. But wearing a dress?

  Gigi groaned.

  ‘Please. I want to look nice tonight, but I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard. If you wore a dress too then I wouldn’t stand out.’

  Gigi knew that even if she put on her best dress and borrowed her mum’s make-up and did her hair in one of those fancy beehive things – if it would even go into one – Lily, with minimal effort, would still stand out.

  She drew in a deep breath. Lily stared at her with pleading eyes.

  ‘Okay then.’ Her shoulders dropped.

  Lily threw her arms around Gigi’s neck and kissed her on the cheek. ‘Wait there.’

  She ran inside and returned moments later. ‘You can borrow these, too.’ She handed Gigi a pair of delicate white gloves.

  ‘It’s a fry-up, Lily. Not afternoon tea with the Queen.’ Gigi stroked the soft suede.

  ‘Every girl should have at least one pair of gloves, Gigi. If you don’t wear them tonight, there’ll be other occasions.’

  Gigi highly doubted that.

  Lily hugged her again and disappeared inside.

  At the fry-up, just before the late summer sun dropped behind the hills that surrounded Banksia Bay, Gigi fidgeted with the tight sleeves on the orange dress she wore. Why did women subject themselves to this level of discomfort? Give her overalls any day.

  She’d spent ages brushing her hair into something resembling a bob, and held her head stiffly so as not to shake it out of shape. She’d left the gloves at home.

  The smell from the open fire pit in the sand was divine and she couldn’t wait for Ian to serve up his famous whole fish.

  Richard
arrived before Lily, looking less at ease than he had that morning. But once the boys turned around to see who was joining them, Richard’s façade changed to one of oozing confidence. Gigi introduced him to Ian, Ian’s summer girlfriend – there was no point trying to remember her name – and the others gathered around.

  ‘You look gorgeous,’ Richard said to Gigi, once the introductions were over.

  ‘Squirt? Gorgeous?’ Ian chuckled. ‘Let me take a picture of this day for posterity.’ He pulled out his camera and snapped a picture of Gigi poking her tongue out at him. She cursed her mother for giving him that wretched contraption last Christmas.

  Gigi kicked Ian in the shin and stormed off down the sand towards to the water.

  Richard caught up with her and stood a little to her side. ‘Don’t listen to that oaf. You do look beautiful tonight. I nearly didn’t recognise you.’

  Gigi spun round ready to take him on too, if she had to, but his face was kind, no hint of mocking to be found. ‘Thank you.’ She cast her eyes down. It was going to be hard to dislike him if he was actually nice.

  When she looked up again, she saw Lily gliding their way, an absolutely stunning vision in a soft pink and white polka-dot swing dress with a scalloped neckline, a pink satin bow holding back her long dark hair.

  Lily hugged Gigi in greeting and Ian ran over and took a photo of the two of them standing in the sand before he went back to the barbecue. A dumbstruck Richard escorted Lily towards the group, leaving Gigi on the beach by herself.

  For the rest of the evening, Lily was locked in conversation with Richard. Gigi might as well have been invisible.

  When the fry-up ended, Richard offered to walk Lily home. At least she had the decency to say goodbye to Gigi before going. Not that it made Gigi feel any better. Dragging her feet, she helped Ian cover the fire with sand.

  ‘You okay, squirt?’ He ruffled her hair with his big hand the way he always did. She batted him away. ‘Sorry. I forgot you’d coiffed it.’

  ‘I didn’t coif it.’ She smoothed her hair and poked her tongue out at him again.

  ‘Is someone a bit jealous, maybe?’ he teased.

  ‘Of what?’

  His blue eyes sparkled, and he went back to packing away his stuff.

  Jealous? Of course not. She’d just wanted to spend time with Lily after finally getting her to a fry-up. Okay. So, technically it was Richard who’d got her there. But she was still Gigi’s best friend, and they should have had a great night together, instead of Lily spending all evening with him.

  Jealous? Okay. Maybe a little. Maybe it wasn’t going to be so hard to dislike Richard after all.

  ‘Do you want me to walk you home, squirt?’ Ian put a kind arm around her shoulder.

  She wriggled free of him. ‘No. I’ll be fine,’ she grunted. Then she remembered her manners. ‘Thank you.’

  Ian headed into the shack, where he sometimes spent the night, usually on his dad’s payday when the pub stayed open late.

  Gigi took the long way home. There was only one way to get from the beach to their little cabin in the caravan park on the edge of town, but if she walked slowly and zigzagged through the side streets, she could make the short journey last at least twenty minutes.

  The caravan park had been home since Gigi was nine, the year before she met Lily, when the fishing season had been sparse for three years running. Mum had taken a job running the park and that was when they’d had the idea to turn their two-bedroom house near the beach into a holiday rental. They’d moved out the summer of her ninth birthday and had never gone back. Gigi didn’t understand that – why couldn’t they at least live back home for the other nine months a year? – but when she asked her mum, she simply said it was easier. Sometimes one of the bigger dairy farms in the area would rent it out for itinerant workers, and when that happened, Mum would look in Gigi’s direction with a raised eyebrow – louder than any ‘I told you so’ could be.

  Gigi didn’t mind living in the caravan park. It gave her permission to be outside as much as she liked, free to roam until dark sent her home.

  As she wound her way through the last of the side streets, she noticed the lights on in the old Parsons place. It had been empty for at least six months now, ever since grumpy Mr Parsons had passed on. She’d heard rumours someone had bought it.

  She slowed down to take a sneaky peek to see if she could catch a glimpse of the new family. Maybe they had a daughter her age who would be starting school next month. Oh, she didn’t dare hope.

  The curtain in the front room was open. Inside there were a few small boxes waiting to be unpacked, an armchair and a small dining table with four chairs covered in some sort of blue fabric. She couldn’t see anyone, but a delicious aroma was wafting out onto the street. Meat, lemon and some sort of herb that she’d never smelled before. She stood out the front and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

  A cough from behind made her spin around.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, before she laid eyes on the person who’d caught her snooping red-handed.

  ‘Can I help you?’ A boy, around her age, she guessed, maybe a little older, was staring at her. He had skin a different shade of dark than the surfer boys from school, and dark, warm eyes that were large and kind. And sad.

  ‘Can . . . I . . . help . . . you?’ He repeated the question more slowly.

  Gigi just stared at him.

  ‘Why are you peering into my living room?’

  ‘Oh.’ Gigi pushed past her embarrassment. ‘Sorry. I was walking by and . . . what is that smell?’

  ‘My ma’s lamb kleftiko.’

  ‘Lamb what?’

  ‘Greek lamb. Sorry. I’ll tell Ma to close the windows.’ He looked down at the dirt road beneath his feet.

  ‘Why would you do that? It smells delicious.’

  The boy narrowed his eyes. ‘Not everyone thinks so.’

  ‘Well, I’m not like everyone, and I do like the smell.’ Gigi put her hands on her hips. ‘I’m Virginia. Gigi for short.’ She held out her hand but the boy didn’t take it.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Virginia. My name is Costas.’

  ‘Costaki? Agapi-mou?’ a voice called from inside.

  ‘I have to go,’ he said.

  ‘Nice to meet you, too.’ Gigi held out her hand again, and this time Costas shook it gently.

  A tingle ran up Gigi’s spine and she pulled her hand back.

  Costas lowered his gaze and headed inside. ‘Sorry. Goodnight.’

  Gigi stood in the middle of the road watching Costas open his door. A woman came to the window, looked straight at Gigi and with a flourish closed the curtain.

  The rest of the way home Gigi fought the butterflies in her stomach, trying to understand what on earth they were doing there.

  Laura sipped her coffee, only paying scant attention to whatever it was Old Salty – what had Heath and the old lady called him in that confusion? Ian? Whatever Ian was prattling on about – surfing, or tides, or waves, or some such nonsense. It was not interesting enough for Laura to take her focus off the woman in the shack.

  Because the woman kept looking at her. Really looking at her. Every time Laura looked up, Virginia was sneaking a glance at her. From behind the stacked coffee mugs, from around the shelves, from over the counter as she bent down pretending to pick something up. And the way she’d turned a sickly pale colour when Laura had ordered her coffee was just unnerving.

  ‘Hey.’ Charlotte came up the sand, greeting the space rather than anyone in particular. Ian stood and gave her a hug. Aiden bounced along beside her and jumped into Heath’s arms as Charlotte kissed him on the cheek.

  ‘How was your surf this morning?’ The question was directed at Heath, but her gaze was firmly on Laura.

  Why did everyone stare at her this way? Were they like this to all out-of-towners? Or had Laura grown a second head overnight? Under this much scrutiny, it was going to be hard to start asking questions.

  She’d have to change her t
ack. Be a regular tourist, make ‘friends’, assimilate the answers instead of asking for them.

  ‘So, have you?’ Ian repeated the question she’d obviously missed, and she looked at him blankly. ‘Ever been surfing?’ he prompted her.

  ‘Ah, no. I’ve never tried it.’

  ‘Heath here could teach you.’ Ian patted the younger man on the back. ‘I taught him, way too many moons back now, and he’s taught nearly every tourist who’s visited these parts in the last ten years.’

  Heath smiled fondly at the old man and looked at Laura. ‘I run the summer surf school. Obviously it’s not summer now, but I’m happy to do private lessons, too.’

  ‘Thank you. But I’m not sure I’d make the best student.’ Laura raised her hands in protest.

  Charlotte shot her a look. ‘Haven’t you got too much work on, anyway, Heath?’

  Laura had said no, hadn’t she? Why was Charlotte being possessive?

  ‘Never too busy to surf.’ He winked and Charlotte glared at him.

  ‘Well, some of us are.’ She pulled her sunglasses down over her eyes and took Aiden’s hand. ‘I’ll be by about four to do some work in the garden.’ She looked at Laura.

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘One of her many talents,’ Heath said. ‘Great gardener. She looks after a few properties in the area in her spare time. The house you’re staying in, for one.’

  Great. This was just what Laura needed. That prickly woman snooping around. Maybe she could go for a walk this afternoon and not be there when Charlotte arrived.

  Virginia came past the table and collected the empty mugs. ‘Can I get you anything else, love?’ Her countenance completely different to ten minutes ago, all warmth and charm now.

  ‘No. Thank you. That was a very good coffee, though.’ Play nice. Be sweet.

  ‘Now, if you’re looking for something to pass the time while you’re here, other than surfing lessons –’ she pointed towards Heath – ‘I do lend out the books in my collection. How long are you staying with us, dear?’

  People kept asking that question. ‘Just a couple of weeks.’

  ‘Lovely. Actually, I have something that might interest you.’ Virginia rushed into the shack and came straight back with one of the coffee-table books and a notepad. ‘This is a bit of a must-do around here. If you’ve got the time, I’m sure Heath wouldn’t mind taking you on a drive one day.’ She handed Laura the book and looked at Heath, who simply smiled back.