The House At Flynn's Crossing

by Elisabeth Rose

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘I don’t want to rush them.’

  ‘No, of course not. I’m sorry. But we can still build the chook pen together, can’t we, Jacob? With Mummy helping.’

  Jacob nodded and Sarah resumed eating.

  She’d have to be careful. Just because Simon was their father and keen to be part of their lives didn’t mean they were ready to accept him wholeheartedly. When it came to the crunch, Antonia was their rock and the one they relied on to keep them safe. At that man’s house, Hannah and her two girls had been the other caregivers they trusted. More recently their grandparents had widened the circle and the preschool teacher last term had been a model of patience and understanding. Regular counselling had helped a lot. Connor, however, had been the only man they were happy to be left alone with and that was in part because he’d saved them all, he was a hero in their eyes. Superman. How many men would be able to match that?

  ***

  Flynn was on the phone with a buyer for a rural block near Kurrajong, focused on the file on his desk and discussing fence lines, when the office door opened. Brandon was out, dammit. He glanced up.

  Antonia! He smiled and waved her to the chair opposite, brain in a flurry. The client on the line had asked another question, which he’d missed completely.

  ‘Could you repeat that, please? I didn’t quite catch …’

  The man burbled on about getting the surveyor’s report by tomorrow and a building inspection done on the house in case of asbestos insulation, despite a certificate stating it was clear of the stuff.

  ‘Of course we can organise that for you, but it won’t be done by tomorrow. It’s Saturday.’

  He finally managed to finish the call.

  ‘Sorry about that, Antonia. How are you?’

  She hadn’t taken the chair but remained standing, looking at the pictures of properties for sale on the wall by the window. He had a moment to drink in the sight of her before she turned. Glossy brown hair falling over her shoulders, slim bare legs, blue denim skirt over a neat rear end, and sleeveless white blouse. Simple and beautiful, fresh as the sparkling streams that flowed down the cool fern filled gullies in the mountains.

  When she faced him, her expression held a shadow of apprehension, as though he was a headmaster and she’d been sent for punishment of some transgression. Before he could attempt to set her at her ease, she said, ‘I’ve come to apologise for being rude to you yesterday. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Rude to me?’ That, he hadn’t expected. Had she been rude? Not that he’d noticed. On the contrary, she’d been beautifully flustered and then unusually talkative. For a few moments.

  ‘Simon said I should have invited you in. I didn’t … I’m sorry. I thought you must be busy and … anyway I didn’t and I’m sorry if you thought I was rude. I didn’t mean to be.’

  Flynn stepped forward involuntarily, anxious to close the gap, to reassure her, to prevent her worrying about something so trivial, so sweetly nothing.

  ‘You weren’t rude,’ he said gently, falling into the soft deep brown of her eyes, wanting to touch her and pull her into his arms. Kiss her.

  She blinked. Her gaze dropped to his shirtfront, then up again. ‘Really?’

  He nodded, unable to speak.

  A little smile hovered on her lips and he couldn’t resist. He leaned forward and brushed her soft mouth with his, light as a butterfly wing. She gasped.

  He drew back. ‘Sorry. That was rude.’

  Her face was a kiss away, frozen. He waited, barely breathing. Those beautiful brown eyes gazed into his for a long, long moment, then the tiny smile reappeared.

  ‘No,’ she said so quietly he barely heard her. ‘It wasn’t.’

  He couldn’t stop the smile that burst spontaneously across his face. ‘I guess we’re even then.’

  And to his delighted amazement, she laughed. ‘Yes, we are.’

  He moved back towards his desk, putting distance between them, just in case. ‘Antonia,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what you may have experienced in your life and this may be way off beam but I get the feeling you might have been in an abusive relationship …’

  Her expression darkened. ‘Did Simon say anything to you?’

  ‘No, no … it’s just … a feeling. And if I’m right, I want you to know that you never need to feel frightened I’ll react in a violent way to something you’ve said or done. It doesn’t matter what, I won’t ever hit you or abuse you. Or anyone else, for that matter.’

  Her eyes widened but the import of his words sank in. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. The sheen of tears glistened but she smiled again. ‘Thank you.’ More strongly. ‘I’d better go. I left the twins over at the cafe.’

  ‘With milkshakes?’

  ‘I hope not. I said they could have an ice-cream.’

  He laughed and it was relief and joy and pleasure all rolled into one. He took the plunge. ‘Have a coffee with me?’

  She hesitated but only for a split second. ‘Okay. Now?’

  ‘Yes, it’s coffee time. After you.’

  He flipped the ‘back in ten minutes’ sign and pulled the door closed behind them. So much for keeping away from her. Here he was fuelling his stupid crush like a madman. Still. Sharing a cup of coffee was a normal thing to do and meant nothing. It wouldn’t mean a thing to her anyway and avoiding someone in this small town was virtually impossible.

  He stood beside her, waiting for a couple of cars to go by.

  ‘You know, if you’re thinking of painting the house it’s best to do it before you get too much stuff in there.’

  ‘Hmm. I don’t think I can afford to do anything like that for a while. I won’t have time either. It’s not too bad.’ She added grimly, ‘I’ve seen worse.’

  ‘Simon would help, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, probably, but I also don’t want to spend money on paint when the place might be sold. The owner won’t pay for it, will he?’

  ‘She, but no, not this owner. You don’t think you’d be in a position to buy?’

  ‘My parents would say yes, but I won’t ask them. They’ve done plenty for us already.’

  She stepped on to the road and he followed her across to the Paragon. The twins were in a booth towards the rear where Cath could watch them from the counter. Gail wasn’t in yet, fortunately. Flynn didn’t want her beady-eyed and ultimately wildly embellished assessment of the situation. Whatever this situation with Antonia was.

  ‘Morning, Cath.’

  ‘Good morning,’ she called as she went into the kitchen.

  ‘We’ve got ice-cream with strawberry flavouring, Mummy,’ announced Sarah.

  ‘Lucky you.’ Antonia slid in beside her.

  ‘What would you like?’ Flynn asked.

  ‘Flat white, please. I should be taking the order. I work here.’

  ‘Not yet you don’t. Enjoy it while you can.’

  He sauntered across to the counter to wait for Cath to reappear. Antonia leaned across the table, speaking to Jacob. Flynn was too far away to hear what she said but he assumed it was to do with Flynn having to sit beside him on the bench seat. The boy didn’t seem too concerned, more interested in spooning pink ice-cream into his mouth.

  Order placed, he went back to the booth. ‘Okay if I sit here?’ he asked Jacob, and received a nod.

  ***

  ‘I thought chocolate was your favourite flavour,’ he said to Sarah. She had a pink ring around her mouth and drips down her T-shirt front.

  ‘Cath said we should try all the flavours,’ she said.

  ‘Good idea. So what’s best so far?’

  ‘Chocolate.’

  ‘I like caramel. You should have that next.’ He’d plucked that at random, remembering he’d liked it as a kid.

  ‘Caramel? Really?’ Antonia pulled a face.

  ‘What’s wrong with caramel?’ He pulled his own face back at her and Sarah and Jacob giggled.

  ‘What’s wrong with caramel?’ echoed Sarah.
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  ‘It’s so sweet. I didn’t have you down as a sweet-toothed person.’

  ‘I have hidden depths. What’s your favourite?’

  ‘I don’t have a favourite. I don’t eat ice-cream much. I like fruit.’

  ‘You’d like fruity gelatos and sorbets. There’s a good gelato shop in Kurrajong. The owners are Italian and make their own the traditional way.’

  ‘Can we go there?’ asked Jacob.

  ‘We might. How big is Kurrajong?’

  ‘It’s the regional centre. That’s where our high schoolers go. There’s a TAFE too.’

  Cath appeared with the coffee. ‘How’s the house?’ she asked.

  ‘Fine. We like it,’ Antonia said. ‘I’ll have to get into the garden and clean up the vegetable patch.’

  ‘If you need a hand, give me a call,’ he heard himself say.

  ‘I want to start a compost heap. Where can I get one of those bins?’

  ‘Have you asked Simon?’

  He’d be the best person to ask about gardening gear but for some reason she was asking him. Making conversation? Maybe.

  ‘I don’t want to rely on him for everything,’ she said.

  ‘There’s a hardware store and a couple of garden centres in Kurrajong. They’re your best bet.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘You seem to know a bit about it,’ he said. ‘I’m not much good at gardening but I can do the heavy lifting.’

  ‘Mummy had to grow the vegetables and we had to help,’ said Sarah.

  ‘Look at the mess you’re in, you grub.’ Antonia took a paper serviette and began dabbing at the pink blobs on Sarah’s T-shirt, effectively preventing any further revelations.

  Had to grow the vegetables? Five-year-olds included? Was that as bad as it sounded? Where had they been living and with whom? One look at Antonia’s face told him she wasn’t going to elaborate and the way she was fussing over Sarah meant the subject was closed.

  ‘I’m off to Brisbane for the weekend,’ he said.

  Antonia brightened. ‘Any special reason?’

  ‘Bit of R and R. Catching up with friends.’

  ‘That’ll be nice.’

  ‘Yes.’ But it wouldn’t. He’d much prefer to stay in town, go shopping for a compost bin and help pull out weeds in her garden.

  ***

  Friday night in Brisbane. Flynn didn’t contact any of his other friends, he had dinner and went to the latest Bond movie. Saturday loomed empty but again he made no calls, preferring to wander about the city centre, the Botanic Gardens, visit the Queensland Art Gallery, linger over lunch and go back to the hotel early to lie on his bed and read one of the books he’d picked up while idling away time in a bookshop.

  He met Lou at the venue, wearing a suit and tie as instructed. She kissed his cheek and tucked her arm in his as they walked into the hotel foyer.

  ‘How come you look better each time I see you? It’s not fair,’ she said.

  ‘You look great, what’s your problem?’ She might’ve gained a bit of weight but it suited her. She claimed she fought a running battle of the bulge, which was idiotic because in his opinion she’d always been on the skinny side.

  ‘Age,’ she said. ‘Grey hairs, extra poundage, you name it. First floor, Garden Room. Stairs or lift?’

  ‘Stairs. For God’s sake woman! Stop with the weight thing. You look terrific. Very sexy.’ Male heads always turned when she walked by. He’d always enjoyed being out with her and tonight she looked stunning in a simple black figure-hugging cocktail dress with a diamond feature nestled in the vee of fabric at her cleavage. She’d rolled her dark hair into a loose bun and clipped it in place with a sparkling silver clasp. Silver drop-earrings caught the light as she moved.

  ‘Do you mean that?’ The staircase was a sweeping affair with annoyingly wide shallow treads.

  ‘Of course I mean that. Sexy has nothing to do with weight and everything to do with personality and confidence. A few curves help, and a great smile. You’ve got all that.’

  ‘Why have I just been dumped then?’

  ‘Because whoever it was is an idiot.’

  ‘Actually, I think you’re right. I was going to dump him but he got in first, which is a bit of a bummer.’

  ‘Forget him. You have me now.’

  ‘Only for this evening, I hope,’ she said in mock alarm. ‘I don’t want you on a permanent basis. We tried that and failed, remember?’ She turned right at the top and headed for an open doorway with a sign indicating the event in progress.

  He laughed and kissed her cheek. ‘Thanks very much.’

  ‘You’re too young for me. I want a man my age at least.’

  ‘I’m only five years younger. I’m not a child.’

  ‘I was starting school and you were a newborn baby.’

  ‘Okay, I resign. What’s this thing you’ve dragged me to?’

  ‘It’s a meet and greet for our clients and people in power. Government ministers, heads of departments and so on. Federal and state.’

  She took a name tag for herself and one marked ‘Gate Crasher’ for him. ‘It’s our little joke,’ she said. ‘For guests like you.’

  Lou said it would be boring but Flynn’s interest level picked up as he scanned the name tags on the table. If these people turned up, he could do a bit of schmoozing of his own. Networking was the best way of putting Flynn’s Crossing and the proposed development of the area on the map. None of these people would have heard of the place but if he could get the ear of a few of them, particularly the local state ministers, he might be able to do some good. Name-dropping might be an in—Margie and Barry Cunningham for example. Barry had worked in the finance industry for years, he must have mates in the business.

  ***

  Flynn arrived home midmorning on Sunday and immediately phoned Margie and Phil.

  ‘Can you come over this afternoon? I have news,’ he said.

  Flynn took his visitors through to sit in the garden rather than the house. The refreshing breeze made a pleasant change to the stifling heat of the previous week.

  ‘I met Sean Baldessin last night at a function in Brisbane.’

  ‘How did you manage that?’ asked Phil. He took a long drink of the cold beer Flynn had furnished him with. No beer for Margie, she was happy with iced sparkling water and a seat in the shade. The front of the old wood-framed house had the view. The back was his own little corner of rainforest. Lush, fragrant and cool.

  ‘I went along with a friend as her guest. She works for the company that gave the reception. It was full of government heads of department and state ministers. All the big names. It was pure luck. But I introduced myself to him. He sends his regards to you and Barry, Margie.’

  ‘Thanks, I like Sean. Not at all what you expect from someone in his situation.’

  ‘He’s very approachable.’

  ‘Was Tegan there? His wife?’

  ‘No. Anyway, as Margie already knows he’s really interested in the proposal and wants to visit and have a look at the area. He’s coming on Thursday. We’ll give him lunch at the pub.’

  ‘Fantastic!’

  ‘So when do we get the other councillors on board?’ asked Phil. ‘We’re not going to be able to keep his visit quiet.’

  ‘I thought about that,’ said Flynn. ‘This is still in the very early stages so we’re not committing ourselves to anything, just discussing ideas. I’ll phone and invite them to lunch and say a verbal proposal for a development on that block has been put forward to the council and we’re meeting with Sean to hear his ideas. It’s no secret that we’re in favour of some sort of economic boost to the town.’

  ‘Sounds okay,’ said Phil. ‘Margie can email everyone with her information so far and you can tell them exactly what you just told us.’

  ‘Fine with me.’ Margie nodded.

  Flynn raised his glass. ‘Okay. Let the battle commence.’

  It would be a battle, there was no doubt about that.

  ***
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br />   Antonia walked the twins to school on Monday morning for their very first day. Both were excited and very proud to be wearing their new uniforms of black shorts and red T-shirt with the school logo. They’d adapted to being left at preschool surprisingly quickly so she was hoping this would be a similar experience for them. As the therapist said, it was easier for them as twins and they’d learned to be resilient living in that house. Antonia wasn’t always with them and they were often minded by Hannah or another of the women, or locked in their room for long periods. As long as they were together they’d be okay.

  Miss Armstrong welcomed them with a warm smile. Today was for the new students to get their bearings, tomorrow was for everyone to return, she said. Two sets of kisses and hugs and promises to be back at three and the twins joined the small group of kindy children settling down on the mat in front of Miss Armstrong. Antonia waited for a while with the other mothers, a grandmother and two fathers, watching for signs of a meltdown, but all eyes were on Miss Armstrong who was asking everyone to introduce themselves to the class. All the children except Sarah and Jacob already knew each other so much giggling ensued.

  Antonia withdrew quietly and walked down the corridor. Her babies would be fine. Two mothers walked with her.

  ‘How are you feeling about leaving them?’ one asked.

  ‘It’s weird not having them with me.’

  ‘I’m Cheryl and this is Di.’

  Cheryl was the tall one with short dark hair and a toothy smile, Di was short and plump with blonde hair in a ponytail.

  ‘I’m Antonia.’

  ‘We know. You’re in Jean’s old house, aren’t you?’ said Di.

  ‘Yes. I love it. The twins call it the Mango House.’ She wouldn’t get anywhere wondering what else the townspeople knew. She needed to make friends and fit in. ‘Would you like some mangoes? We can’t eat them fast enough.’

  ‘Love some.’

  ‘You could come across now if you like.’ She made the suggestion tentatively. These women would be busy.

  ‘Okay, thanks,’ said Cheryl.

  ‘How many children do you have?’ Antonia asked as they set off across the playground.

  ‘I have three. Seth in fifth grade, Bella in third and my last, Aaron, is in kindy; Di has two.’