The House on Findlater Lane

by Helen Goltz

  And he was open to love, he just hadn’t found it yet and he knew why. Luke took after his father; he didn’t get the charm gene, he was better at talking with plants than people. He got plants, but as far as people… women… were concerned, he ran out of conversation after ‘hello’. Juliet might be attractive, but her inane banter about fashion, her social media accounts and whatever reality TV program she was into was absolutely lost on him. Like his father, he was often accused of being gruff or abrupt, whereas his two brothers took after their mother, chatty and charming, and were now married with kids and living far away from the family business.

  So, he’d wait for that nerdy type of girl who took more of an interest in nature than her appearance. Who, similar to Luke, liked plants and botany, reading, hikes, staying in and cooking dinner at home. Yep, good luck with that.

  It was then he recognised the low hum of Jessie Petrach’s 4WD. She swung the vehicle in next to the driver that Juliet almost wiped out and gave him a wave.

  Crap, he muttered, returning the wave – Juliet and Jessie both in one day. Luke turned just in time to see Alfred suppress a smile. Alfred was his father’s first employee and now managed the business for Luke, getting his hands dirty when he wanted to, but mostly he supervised and greeted customers, put in the orders, and managed the paperwork; he was a godsend. He was also serving a woman that Luke hadn’t seen around the village before.

  Luke didn’t want Alfred to retire and Alfred wouldn’t know what to do with himself if he did, so they were both happy. Luke gave him a quick smile and rolled his eyes.

  Yep, it was Friday and all his “groupies” were facing a dateless weekend and thought they’d drop in for some gardening advice and the hope of a date before they had to swipe their dating apps, or go to the local clubs pretending to like the music. He knew how they felt, but he wasn’t the settling type.

  Moving-in day

  ‘Creedence time’, the Sergeant said, reaching for the record from the cottage’s vinyl collection. ‘I need some Bad Moon Rising’. When he was truly melancholy, Alexander would play Have You Ever Seen The Rain. He didn’t know how to use the small modern music box in the corner or those little metallic records… CDs, or whatever they were called. He was keen to use the WiFi – the password was written on a scrap of paper stuck to the fridge with a magnet – but he didn’t know what to use it for, so he stuck to the record collection. He liked the sound of the needle following the groove of the music.

  ‘Vintage’, some of the short-staying guests had called the vinyl albums and laughed about it.

  ‘Vintage… bullocks,’ he’d mutter. ‘Not every change is for the best. You just wait and these will come back into vogue. Cassettes will, too! Then again, maybe not, they were always getting stuck in the machine.’

  He looked around, enjoying being alone again. ‘Better,’ he muttered, ‘much better.’

  If he had to choose a tenant – and only if he had to choose on the threat of death, which, given he was already dead, was not much of a threat – the single female would be better to have staying in the house than those happy, romantic couples or families who disrupted his misery and solitude with their perfect lifestyles. He might allow a long-term rental from someone quiet and moody, but then he’d have to get out of their way and minimise his own lifestyle… if you could call it that. No, that wouldn’t work, either. What he wanted was his wife to visit, just once. In the nearly four decades she had lived after him, not once had Meg returned to the house. Why?

  ‘Meghan Austen.’ He spoke her name. He smiled when he remembered how she was keen to take his name when they married, even when all her feminist friends were burning their bras and carrying on. He remembered, the year before he died, that awful song that came out and was a big hit – I am Woman. God, he hated that song.

  He thought – hoped – Meghan was a sentimentalist, a romantic, but she hadn’t even visited the town or driven past; he’d know, he’d feel it. Nope, nothing. If she could just come back and stay overnight, for old times’ sake. Stay a weekend, stay a week. Sit where they used to sit, walk where they used to tread… but not once. Why? Did it mean that much to her or did it mean that little?

  He lowered himself into a green, dimpled leather chair and closed his eyes, letting the lyrics roll over him. They danced to this once, he and Meg, in this very room. If he had to call it, he’d say she was most like Ali MacGraw… Love Story. A soppy movie that he managed to avoid by death, but Meg had wanted to see it. She looked like Ali… petite, that long, dark hair, the big eyes. He sat up alert; he’d heard a car out the front, turning off the engine.

  ‘You’ve got to be kidding me, she’s back!’ The Sergeant raced to the record player to turn Creedence off. He moved from one window to the other to watch Holly fussing at her car. She was lifting a large bouquet of flowers from the back seat, locking up and heading to the front door with a suitcase in tow.

  ‘She’s bringing me flowers?’

  He watched as she stopped, observed the house again and then, searching for the correct key, unlocked the front door. By the time she had entered, he was back in the portrait, taking up his position.

  The first thing she did was look his way. He could sense her tension. She’s a little scared, she’ll be worse tonight, he thought and softened. The Sergeant thought of his own wife and wouldn’t want her to be frightened… Meghan had changed him, she was still changing him.

  He watched as Holly placed the flowers on the table and worked her way around the room, opening all the windows in the living areas. She flung the front and back doors open; in poured the warm air, breathing life into the house. He could smell the heady mix of salty air and fresh flowers. Then she ran her finger over the screen of a palm-size phone and, like magic, a song came through the speaker box in the corner. Clearly, she knew how to use that new-fangled thing. It was jazz… I’ve Got You Under My Skin and, for just a moment, he thought he might like living with this other woman.

  She smiled and danced just a little as he watched her from the frame and tried to resist smiling. She reminded him of his Meghan – a blonde Meghan, but she had the same small face and pointy chin, the same mannerisms at times – the way she put her hair back behind her ears and cocked her head on the side as she studied things around the house, returning to adjust the flowers again. He inhaled her perfume; lovely.

  ‘Better,’ Holly said, and smiled. ‘Much better. Okay, Sergeant,’ she addressed him, and turned her eyes to the portrait. ‘If you are going to appear tonight and scare the living daylights out of me, do you think perhaps you could do me a favour and just get it over with now? I’d appreciate it. For old times’ sake?’

  For old times’ sake? He frowned.

  She waited and nothing happened. ‘We’re almost related, you knew my grandmother, Lily. She lived here with you. Well, you didn’t live together in that way… but you both lived here at some point and time and together… you know what I mean. Anyway, want to talk about it?’ Holly turned in a circle, looking for him in case he was elsewhere in the room and not in the portrait. She liked to be open-minded. ‘I think you met my grandfather, too, and my Aunty Kate… no?’

  She turned back to the portrait. ‘Okay then, please be a gentleman and don’t scare me unnecessarily. I’ll do my best to respect your space, once I know what this is.’ She sighed.

  She closed her eyes, willing him to appear and tried to feel him; feel some change in the energy in the room. Almost with dread, she slowly opened her eyes… nothing. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘Maybe you’re not really here at all and that’s just fine by me,’ she said. ‘Right then, time to explore.’ Holly had no idea that she was being watched as she began to wander around the house, opening and closing cupboards, running her hand over surfaces and checking out the furniture.

  ‘Nice,’ she whispered, looking at the chair rails and fittings. She sat on the couch and wiggled. ‘Mm, that’ll do nicely.’ And then she spotted a good-size table
against the wall in the dining room. ‘That’s perfect for my desk. Guess you’re no good at carrying things, Sergeant?’ she said.

  Holly went into the kitchen and returned with four tea towels which she wedged under each leg and then slid it into the best spot for her work and the ocean view… who needs a man, she thought.

  For the rest of the afternoon, she set up the house how she wanted it, stopping once to make a cup of Earl Grey tea. Then, heading upstairs, she tried the bed, moved pieces of furniture, unpacked her belongings and made the house her own, at least for the next six months. To finish, she plodded back downstairs and put a small sign in her new office window:

  Missing Me – Lost, Found and Broken

  Holly Hanlon

  Professional finder

  Enquire within or visit www.missingme.com

  Certificate III in Investigative Services, Diploma of Counselling

  ‘I’m done,’ she said to the Sergeant in his portrait. No reply. She listened, but all she could hear was the breaking waves and the latest CD of the eighties hits that she had put on when the jazz CD had run its course.

  She straightened the sign and wondered if anything would be lost or anyone would need her to find something in this little village. Holly had always been a finder… some might call it weird, but it started so young and became so matter of fact that friends and family never gave it a second thought.

  Things would just find Holly. Hats blown away in a storm, missing pets, lost jewellery, missing keys… Holly’s mother, Jackie, once despaired of it and became quite impatient with people who bought into the idea, until she had lost a few items of her own and Holly retrieved them. Most convenient.

  As the years passed and Holly progressed through school and college, it got so that people would let Holly know when they had lost something, as they expected it to appear in her company in the imminent future. Mrs Tait rang when her favourite spotted scarf had gone missing on her train trip back from London; Holly found it tucked between the seats on her school excursion one week later. Her third best friend, Aimee, lost a silver ballerina charm from her bracelet which Holly sat on one lunch hour on the school lawn. There was such an endless stream of pets, that Holly’s father enclosed the yard to ensure they were safe until their owners arrived to collect them. She just had the gift… like a living magnet, her father would say. Holly smiled at the memory. She wondered if there would be enough clients to keep her financially afloat in this village.

  Heading up the stairs again, Holly checked out the closets, hallway nooks and crannies, and the main bedroom. which she fell in love with the moment she opened the doors onto the balcony and the fresh, salty air streamed in. The queen-sized bed looked delicious; she couldn’t wait to head to bed with a good book.

  She went into the second room; it too had a lovely little Juliette balcony with a sea view and an inviting double bed made up with clean white linen and scattered with pale blue cushions. There was nothing in the cupboards, on the wall or under the bed.

  ‘I think I’m going to be very happy here,’ she said and smiled, ‘even if I have a housemate.’

  ‘Thanks, love,’ she heard a deep voice behind her say, and she spun around in fright, dropping the pillow she was currently fluffing.

  There was no-one there.

  Holly’s first visitor

  The Sergeant was waiting for Holly to freak out – that was usually the reaction he got – but she stood stock still, frozen like a statue, her hand on her heart.

  Well, this is new, he thought. Lord, I hope she hasn’t had a heart attack and will fall over dead in a minute. That’s all I need. The bloody ghost hunters will be here in force.

  Do I say something else or just wait for her to react? Bloody hell, it’s so much easier when no one lives here!

  Then he heard a knock at the front door and a female voice called out Holly’s name. It seemed to snap her out of her frozen state and she stepped back and looked around.

  ‘I forgot the front door is wide open,’ she said, as if to both of them. ‘I would never have done that in London.’

  He watched as Holly took her hand off her heart and spoke in the general direction of where she had heard his voice.

  ‘This isn’t over yet,’ Holly said.

  ‘You can be sure of that sweetheart,’ The Sergeant responded, but not so that Holly could hear him.

  She continued to talk out loud to him. ‘And don’t even think about appearing to me tonight in the dark and scaring me to death,’ she warned. ‘Don’t even think about it… you’re supposed to be a Sergeant, so be an officer and a gentleman!’

  He could tell she was putting on a brave face and was full of bravado, but he suspected it was an act. She made a hmph sound and put the pillow back on the bed.

  The Sergeant remained out of sight, touched his heart and smiled. ‘Ah, officer and a gentleman – low blow,’ he muttered to himself. ‘She’s good, this one!’

  The female voice called out again. ‘Holly?’

  ‘Coming,’ she called and exited the room quickly to meet the guest at the front door.

  ‘Crap,’ he muttered. He had to beat her downstairs and get back into his portrait.

  Holly skipped down the stairs surprised by the interruption. It can’t be a client already, surely, I’ve only been here a minute, she thought.

  At the ajar front door stood a face she recognised.

  ‘Aunty Kate!’ She stopped in her tracks, a smile of delight sweeping her face.

  ‘Holly, it’s you!’ Her aunt’s eyes were huge with surprise.

  Holly raced to embrace her. ‘I thought I’d missed you… Damien said you’d left town. You look wonderful,’ she said, taking in the sight of her slim, sophisticated, fifty-nine-year-old aunt.

  ‘It’s you,’ her aunty said again, pulling away to look at Holly. ‘How wonderful! I knew it was a Holly renting the place, the agent told me, but he didn’t say it was my Holly! This is terrific! What are you doing here? You can’t pay rent, I refuse to let you! Don’t you look great! Does your Mum know you are here?’

  Holly laughed and pulled her aunty into the living room.

  ‘I’ll answer every one of those questions! Let’s have tea and talk. I’m so pleased you are here, can you stay?’ Holly asked, hoping that now she wouldn’t have to spend the first night alone… alone with a ghost!

  ‘No… well, yes. I was leaving this morning but got delayed with business in the next town. Then Damien rang and said he’d rented out the cottage for six months and that the tenant had already moved in, so I swung back and thought I’d meet the tenant, see if they needed anything… and it’s you! Why? What’s happening?’

  ‘Stay with me here tonight, or for a few days,’ Holly pleaded.

  ‘I’ve got to be in London tomorrow night, so I can only stay one night. But I can get a room. I don’t want to cramp your style and on your first night,’ she said, with a wave of her hand.

  ‘Don’t be crazy… please stay with me, you’re a sight for sore eyes,’ Holly said, and tried not to tear up. For the first time that day, she realised how fast she had been running away from everything; too fast.

  Kate hugged her again. Pulling away, she said, ‘Forget the tea, I’ve got a lovely bottle of wine in the car. What do you think? It is cocktail hour, after all.’

  ‘Bring it on!’

  ‘Oh, by the way, I’ve lost the spare set of house keys to this place… I suspect they’ll find you,’ Kate said, with a wry look to Holly. ‘I’m a bit surprised they haven’t already.’

  Holly laughed. ‘I’ve only been here a minute, but I’ll let you know should they return home!’

  ‘When they return,’ Kate said, and went to fetch her overnight bag and the wine. While she was gone, Holly found two wine glasses and, from her own meagre supplies, placed the crackers and cheese on a plate, and set them up on the table near the window with the ocean view.

  From his vantage place on the wall in the middle of the room, Alexander watch
ed the two women catch up, his arms folded across his chest, less than impressed.

  Kate returned and as they sat and sipped, Holly updated her aunty on the misadventures that had drawn her to Findlater House.

  ‘And so, I’m here and I insist on paying rent,’ she finished.

  Kate narrowed her eyes. ‘Hmm, well we’ll talk about a nominal rent later.’ She lowered her voice and asked, So… you’re not scared, are you? Have you seen him?’

  ‘A little scared, and no, I haven’t seen him, have you?’ Holly asked.

  ‘No and I don’t know why he’s back. When Lily died he left for a while, supposedly. There were no reports of him visiting for about a decade. So why now?’

  ‘Bored, or unfinished business maybe,’ Holly said. ‘Did anyone else in the family ever see him?’

  Kate smiled. ‘Your mum rarely came here and Edward never did – not that your uncle believed in that sort of thing, anyway. But your Grandma Lily used to talk to the Sergeant all the time when she stayed here. She told me once about one of their conversations like it was the most natural thing in the world.’

  ‘I hear she was a bit eccentric,’ Holly said. ‘And perhaps the Sergeant only speaks to those who are open to hearing him.’

  ‘Maybe. She was quite eccentric and a little introverted,’ Kate said, musing on her mother. ‘You look a lot like her, you know – you only knew your grandmother when she was in her later years, but if you look at photos of her as a younger woman… she was a little thing and fair, too. You may have more in common with her than you thought.’