The House At Flynn's Crossing

by Elisabeth Rose

  In the living room, an old sofa covered in floral-patterned fabric had been left behind, as had a wooden bookcase and an old-fashioned wooden dresser. Mrs Tracey would have had her best china in the glass-fronted cabinet and her photos on the top, with perhaps a vase of roses from the garden. ‘What books did you have? What did you like to read?’ she asked softly.

  Already she knew which of the bedrooms she would choose and which would be the twins’ room. Eventually they could have a room each, but for now they’d prefer to share. And they’d have a spare room, as Simon said, for visitors. ‘Please, please, please, let me live here,’ she whispered.

  A car engine sounded outside. Simon. She went to meet him.

  ‘Like it?’ he asked.

  ‘I love it. It’s perfect. Flynn was right.’

  Simon grinned. ‘That’s great. Where is he?’

  ‘Phoning the owner to see if she’ll rent to me. If she won’t, I think Mum and Dad might be able to help me buy it but I don’t want to ask them.’

  ‘Really? You want to stay here permanently?’ His delight was genuine.

  ‘I think so. Yes.’ She looked around at the doors leading to empty rooms, the silent passageway leading to the rest of the house. ‘It feels like home. As if it’s been waiting for me.’ She ducked her head. ‘That’s silly.’

  Simon touched her under the chin. ‘No, no it’s not. I feel the same way about my place.’

  ‘Thanks, Simon,’ she said softly.

  The screen door banged, feet clumped on the wooden floor. ‘Ah, there you are,’ said Flynn. His gaze flitted from Antonia to Simon. She took a step back, cheeks warming uncomfortably.

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She wanted three hundred a week but I beat her down because there’s no way she’d get anything like that for this place in the state it’s in and the current market. How does two-twenty per week sound?’

  ‘Two hundred and twenty dollars? I …’ She looked at Simon. ‘Does that sound okay?’

  ‘Absolutely. It’s a great price.’

  It sounded astronomical to her. Would Dad pay that? Panic gripped her for an instant. Her dream began to crumble.

  ‘I need a job,’ she blurted.

  ‘Talk to Raoul at the Belle Cuisine,’ said Flynn. ‘He might have something. That’s if you don’t mind restaurant work. Otherwise there’s cleaning.’ He sounded doubtful. ‘What can you do?’

  ‘Anything. I’ll do anything.’

  ‘Okay. Let me make some calls and let you know.’

  ‘You don’t need to. I can ask around. You’ve done enough for me already, finding this house.’

  ‘It’s no problem.’

  ‘Flynn likes to know what’s going on,’ said Simon. ‘He likes to be in control.’

  Antonia nodded. ‘But I want to be in control of my life.’ She sucked in air quickly. ‘Sorry, that was rude. You’ve been … are … very kind.’

  Again the blue eyes examined her. ‘You’ll need to come and sign the lease agreement and pay a bond. She wants a month in advance, which is standard.’ He named the total amount. Another astronomical figure. Antonia nodded and shook his proffered hand. This time his grip was firm but gentle.

  ‘Done,’ he said. ‘Come in tomorrow afternoon and we’ll complete the deal. Don’t forget the mangoes.’

  Antonia drove to the motel on automatic. She’d done it. She’d found Simon, told him about the twins and found a home all in one day. This afternoon she’d ask around for work and this evening she’d drive out to have dinner with Simon at his invitation. Tomorrow she’d meet Flynn and sign those papers, but now she needed to scrape up that money. And she had a shopping bag half-full of fresh mangoes to take home to Sydney.

  She lay on the bed and phoned her father. After that she’d find some lunch and a job.

  ***

  In a state bordering on emotional shock, Flynn drove back to the pub to have a counter lunch in the bar, washed down by a cold beer. Donna pulled the beer, took his order of chicken Caesar salad then began unloading a tray of clean glasses and stacking them under the bar.

  The chill of the beer steadied his overheated hormones. What the hell was the matter with him? Something had happened that morning when Antonia got out of the car and walked towards him. Something slammed into his heart and stopped it for a few beats, something jammed his lungs and when his vital functions started working again, the world had changed colour. His whole world had changed because Antonia was in it where she hadn’t been before. Until that car door opened and she appeared like a goddess, unbeknownst to him he’d been operating in a twilight state. She’d dazzled him and electrified him into a new awareness.

  Unfortunately, he hadn’t done the same to her. He had the horrible impression he repelled her at first sight. But she’d gradually relaxed and whatever had bothered her had faded. Maybe he looked like her ex. He downed a third of the beer in one swallow.

  ‘How are things?’ he asked Donna. ‘How are the kids?’

  ‘I’ll be glad when school starts,’ she said with a groan. ‘All they do is sit around with their electronic doodads and complain about living in the sticks.’

  ‘I suppose it is quiet for kids.’

  ‘They loved it when they were little but now they can’t wait to grow up and get out of here.’

  Flynn nodded. ‘And yet people like Simon and the cooperative choose to come here for the same reasons the teenagers want to leave.’

  ‘That mob aren’t afraid of work,’ she said. ‘I’ll say that for them.’

  ‘A friend of Simon’s turned up today. She’s moving into Jean’s old place with her kids. We shook on it just now.’ And his palm still tingled from the contact.

  Donna finished stacking and leaned on the bar. ‘That’s good. How old are the kids?’

  ‘Five-year-old twins. She’s not much over twenty-two or so herself, I reckon.’

  ‘Single mum?’

  ‘Yep.’

  A bell rang. ‘That’s your salad.’

  Antonia. He wanted to linger, talk to her and find out why she was so skittish, almost frightened of him one minute, quite forceful the next, but apologetic after stating her mind. What was that about? If he had to guess he’d say she’d been in an abusive relationship and was trying to start afresh. Had someone deliberately harmed her? The thought made his teeth grind.

  What was her relationship with Simon? They were comfortable and affectionate together; that was plain. Simon almost fell over himself to help her. Old friends, old lovers? He didn’t know much about Simon beyond the superficial—hardworking, honest and extremely amiable, loved the life he’d chosen here at Flynn’s Crossing, liked photography, as did Flynn. He’d grown up in Sydney and his family situation hadn’t been particularly happy. That was about it apart from an overall impression of naivety and perhaps cluelessness about life in general.

  But Antonia. She was a mystery. An enigma with dark haunted eyes and glossy deep brown hair. Serious and quiet, slim and fragile. He’d hurt her hand crushing it in his big clumsy paw. Mortifying. He made sure not to do it again. But that smile had dazzled him, coming from nowhere, laughing with him underneath the mango tree, snatching the thoughts—those he’d just begun to make coherent—from his head for a few moments of oblivion. He’d had a glimpse of a different carefree, sensitive and lovely young woman.

  Donna slid his salad in front of him. ‘Another beer?’

  ‘No, thanks. This friend of Simon’s needs a job. Have we got anything?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’

  ‘I think Cath wants someone for a couple of shifts at the Paragon. Can she cook?’

  ‘She said she’d do anything.’

  Donna shrugged. ‘Worth her asking.’ She moved away to serve a couple of newcomers.

  Flynn finished his lunch and strolled down the street to his office. Brandon should be there at the moment. Business was a bit quiet given the jittery state of the economy.
Clients like that stupid, greedy Tracey woman had no clue about country real estate and the ups and downs of demand and prices. All she saw was free money courtesy of her great-aunt who’d been a sweet, generous and beloved member of the community all her life. He’d taken great satisfaction in beating her down to a more than reasonable rental, giving her the argument that the house wouldn’t sell quickly, this money was better than nothing and the tenant would clean up the garden, which desperately needed doing if she was to have any chance of attracting a buyer.

  He didn’t mention Antonia’s interest in the property beyond renting. Where would she get the money? She didn’t have a job or career skills and probably barely finished high school. He couldn’t in all conscience go forward with a sale if the buyer was a financial risk. Simon might have a few answers if it came to that.

  Brandon looked up from a folder of papers. ‘G’day, boss.’

  ‘Afternoon. I’ve got a tenant for the Tracey place.’

  ‘A tenant? I thought they wanted a buyer.’

  ‘I talked her into renting it out. Could turn into a sale though. Antonia’s coming in tomorrow afternoon to sign the papers. Can you get that organised, please?’

  ‘Okay. What’s her last name?’

  ‘I don’t know. Hang on.’ Idiot. He’d been so dazzled he hadn’t even asked for that or a contact number. He rang Simon.

  G’day, mate. Listen, we’re getting the paperwork ready for Antonia. What’s her last name? And do you a have a contact number for her?’

  ‘Farris,’ he repeated to Brandon and scribbled the number Simon gave him on a piece of paper. Was that a married name or her family’s? She wouldn’t keep the name of her abuser, surely?

  ‘Come for dinner tonight,’ said Simon. ‘Antonia’s coming to meet everyone.’

  ‘Okay. Thanks.’

  ‘See you at seven.’

  Flynn copied her number into his phone and slipped it into his pocket.

  ‘She’ll be in tomorrow afternoon. See you later, Brandon.’

  Back on the street, his strolling feet took him in the direction of the Paragon and Cath.

  Chapter 3

  ‘I’ll transfer the money into your account as soon as I hang up,’ her father said. ‘Are you sure it’s what you want, sweetheart?’

  ‘Yes, positive. There’s something about the house and the garden—it’s just the feel of it. And it backs onto the bush. It’s beautiful. I can’t explain exactly.’

  ‘You don’t have to, I understand.’ And he did, she knew. He was a landscape gardener, he had an intuitive sense of what worked and what didn’t, what fitted and what fought against the environment.

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’

  ‘Have you called your mother?’

  Antonia closed her eyes and exhaled. ‘She won’t like it. She didn’t want me to come at all.’

  ‘I know but she’s worried, that’s all.’

  ‘Dad, can you call her?’ She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed.

  ‘It will just make her more upset if you don’t tell her yourself.’

  ‘I suppose …’

  ‘Start off by telling her about Simon and how keen he is to meet the twins—which is great, by the way. Then you can say you’ve decided they should all get to know each other so you want to stay up there for a while.’

  ‘It sounds reasonable, doesn’t it?’ She hadn’t plucked up the courage to mention the idea of buying the mango tree house.

  ‘Yes, it does. Frank will back you up.’

  ‘I like him.’

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘Mum wanted them all to traipse up here to see Simon together but Frank said no, I should go on my own.’

  That scene was imprinted on her memory. It had taken all her courage to broach the subject knowing the reaction she’d get, but in his quiet, eminently rational way, stepfather Frank had listened to the hysterical objections from her mother and calmly pointed out all the reasons it was a good idea for Antonia to see Simon alone.

  ‘We don’t want the twins to be there if it all goes pear-shaped,’ he said. ‘It’s a small country town and everyone would know all about Antonia and the children within five minutes. Or think they did, which is worse. We don’t want that to happen, do we?’

  ‘I’m her mother,’ she insisted, face pale, hands clenched. ‘I need to be there with her. I want to go with her. She hasn’t recovered yet.’

  ‘Mum, I want to do this for myself. I can’t … do … be … anything if you smother me. I know you’re trying to protect me but …’ She spread her hands. ‘What else can happen to me, worse than what did?’

  It was a cruel remark because it was guilt driving her mother’s fear, she knew that. Guilt at not knowing her teenage daughter was pregnant, not knowing she planned an abortion, and guilt at believing her dead when Dad never gave up hope. But she had to fight for her independence or she’d continue to be a victim. She wasn’t a victim, not now.

  Frank smiled. ‘She’s right, Rob. Nothing will happen. She’ll be fine.’

  ‘But she’s an innocent, the world has changed in that time. And what if Simon is cruel and nasty and won’t have anything to do with her? Who would she turn to then?’

  ‘If that happens, which I doubt, I’ll come straight back to Sydney.’ Her mother had no idea what depths of cruelty and nastiness Antonia had endured. Simon wouldn’t have the capacity to think of them, let alone employ them.

  ‘But the roads are so dangerous and you’re not used to driving. I can’t lose you again,’ she wailed. Frank put his arms around her as she sobbed.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he mouthed at Antonia.

  ‘Mum, I have to learn to be an adult. I want to do this alone. I need to.’

  So her mother grudgingly agreed to stay at home and mind the twins with the proviso Antonia call each morning and night and in between if she wanted to. She suspected Frank had confiscated her mum’s phone because she’d had no panicky calls since she left the day before yesterday. She would have driven to Flynn’s Crossing in one long day but all the parents united in making her promise to limit her daily driving time to five or six hours, for which she was grateful when, stiff and exhausted, she arrived at her first stop near Kempsey.

  Connor said, ‘How long do you think you’ll stay?’

  ‘Flynn said I can rent until someone wants to buy the house … but that might take ages. I don’t know, at least one term so the twins can start kindy. It’ll be ideal because it’s a small school and they’ll be able to walk there. I should enrol them. How do I do that?’

  ‘Just go in when it opens and sign them up.’

  ‘Okay. Dad... thanks for helping me do this, I know you don’t want me to move so far away either … and it’s so much money.’

  ‘What I want is you to be happy,’ he said. ‘That’s all any of us want. You missed five years and you need to recover them in a way that suits you. The money is nothing compared to what happened and I’m just glad Jax and I are in a situation where we can provide for you. So are your mother and Frank. We love you. Never forget that.’

  ‘No, I won’t. Love you.’

  Antonia tossed the phone on the bed with tears gathering. Super Dad. If only she’d known when she was a teenager. She dashed the moisture away and went to the bathroom. Before she called her mother, she’d have lunch and do some job hunting. That conversation was not something she wanted to face on an empty stomach, and if she could land some work her case would be all the stronger.

  The motel was just on the outskirts of the town. From what she could tell, it catered mainly to hikers who came to spend a few days or more trekking through the spectacular mountainous national parkland that bordered Flynn’s Crossing. The reception area had a carousel loaded with maps and information about the best views and scenic spots. Some of the trails looked accessible by five-year-olds and there was a waterfall with a picnic area, which was a very short distance by foot from the access road. Judging by the photos Simon had taken,
it was a beautiful area.

  Rather than walk back to the main street, she took the car. The temperature had risen dramatically since she’d been at the house and the humidity climbed with it, cloying and sticky. It felt like a storm coming. But it was midsummer and everywhere was hot. She didn’t care, she was free. A fact that was very slowly sinking in.

  A few elderly men lounged in chairs on the verandah of the pub, their beers on a small table between them. She’d need to stop in to buy wine to take to Simon’s for dinner. Assuming they drank wine. She should take something else as well in case. What? They had their own juice, they probably wouldn’t drink soft drink … beer? Cider? The person in the bottle shop would know. She’d never had to make this type of decision.

  She drove slowly along until she spied the Bluebird Cafe where she’d asked for directions earlier. A couple of hikers in shorts sat at an outdoor table on the footpath eating toasted sandwiches, their backpacks leaning against the wall. Inside the air con was pumping chilled air over a couple of bikers eating burgers. Most tables stood empty. Red-haired Bettina greeted her like an old friend.

  ‘Hello, darl. Did you find Simon?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. I’d like to have lunch, please.’

  ‘Take that table by the window and I’ll be with you in a minute. Would you like a drink?’

  ‘Just water, thanks.’

  ‘Help yourself, darl.’ She pointed to a pile of glasses and water jugs on a table at the end of the counter.

  ‘Thank you.’

  Sipping the cold water, Antonia studied the menu. Basic cafe fare of toasted and open sandwiches, burgers, pies, curry and rice, schnitzel or fish and chips, steak sandwich and soup of the day.

  ‘Made up your mind yet, or do you need a few more minutes?’ Bettina stood beside her, pen poised over her notepad.

  She would have like a salad but it wasn’t an option at the Bluebird. She couldn’t walk out now. ‘A cheese and tomato sandwich please, toasted.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘Not at the moment. Thank you.’

  ‘Staying in town long?’

  ‘No, but I’ll be back.’