The Summer of Secrets

by Barbara Hannay

  ‘And we’ll take Dad’s canoe.’

  ‘How lovely.’

  ‘Have you ever been camping?’

  ‘No I haven’t, actually. Well, only on a school camp and that doesn’t really count.’

  ‘Wish you could come with us.’

  ‘Bree.’ Her father’s voice held a warning note. ‘You know Chloe needs to see her own family for Christmas.’

  Bree shrugged. It had been worth a try. Every so often her father and Chloe talked about boring grown-up stuff, mostly to do with the paper. Bree usually drifted away and practised her handstands, or did a cartwheel or three. When there seemed to be a break in their conversation, she danced back to them.

  She flopped down on the garden bench beside Chloe. ‘Guess what, Chloe?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Dad and I found the most awesome house yesterday.’

  ‘You’ve been househunting?’ Chloe directed her question to Finn, who had moved to the barbecue to lift the uneaten chops onto a plate to take inside.

  ‘We weren’t exactly hunting,’ he said. ‘We more or less stumbled on the place by accident.’

  Bree’s jaw dropped. ‘But you already knew the address, Dad. You saw it on the inter—’

  ‘For Pete’s sake, Bree —’ For the first time, he looked annoyed.

  Confused, Bree frowned at him. ‘But can’t I tell Chloe about the house?’

  ‘We were just driving past,’ he told Chloe now. ‘And the house happened to be open for inspection.’

  This was sort of true. ‘So we went inside,’ Bree chimed in blithely. ‘I can tell Chloe that, can’t I, Dad?’

  ‘I think you already have.’

  Bree took this as consent. ‘The house was so cool,’ she continued, avoiding her father’s watchful eye. ‘It’s on the side of a hill and when you walk in off the street and through the front door, you can see right through to a deck that looks out at the view.’

  ‘How lovely.’

  ‘It’s beautiful. You can see a little bit of the lake in the distance. And there’s four bedrooms and two bathrooms and the most perfect yard with a fence for having a dog.’

  ‘Well, that’s important, I’m sure.’ Chloe smiled with her mouth, but her eyes looked sort of sad. ‘It’s fun to look at houses and to imagine yourself living there.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Bree had been imagining herself living there ever since she’d seen the house. She’d imagined having a dog to play with. A bitser would do – she wasn’t fussy. She would take it for walks.

  She had also pictured herself going to school here in Burralea and having friends like Sam and Milla Peterson. Once she started school she could have girlfriends for sleepovers in one of those lovely big bedrooms. And her dad would always be there. And perhaps Chloe could fit into the picture too.

  ‘Would you like a top up?’ Finn asked Chloe as he retrieved the wine bottle from the bucket of ice.

  Chloe looked at her glass, which was empty. ‘Actually, I don’t think I will, thanks. I’ve probably had enough.’

  ‘Maybe we could go inside and watch a movie now,’ Bree suggested, remembering the movies she’d enjoyed with Chloe.

  Her dad looked surprised.

  Chloe looked worried. ‘I’m not sure about a movie tonight, Bree. I’m actually a bit tired,’ she said. ‘It’s been a big week.’

  Bree was shocked. It wasn’t much past eight-thirty.

  ‘I can take you home any time you like,’ her father was saying.

  Dad??

  ‘Thanks, Finn. It was a lovely meal. I really enjoyed it.’

  This sounded, to Bree, as if Chloe was being polite, but really, she wanted to go home. And her father hadn’t tried to talk her out of it, which was worrying. Bree had hoped that Chloe and her dad might relax and have a little more fun together, even become a bit romantic. But there was no sign tonight that they were anything more than people who worked together.

  ‘If you don’t mind, I will go now,’ Chloe said. ‘And grab an early night.’

  Bree was watching the two of them carefully. It was hard to tell how her dad felt about this early departure. His face was kind of blank, but Chloe was biting at her bottom lip and looking strangely nervous.

  Her dad collected the car keys from the kitchen counter. ‘You coming for the ride, Bree?’

  She made a quick decision and shook her head. ‘I’ll stay here. I think there’s a movie just starting on TV.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I’ll only be ten minutes.’

  ‘You don’t need to rush back. I’ll be fine, Dad.’

  He frowned at her severely, and looked as if he wanted to reprimand her. But he didn’t.

  Chloe came and kissed her. ‘Goodnight, Bree. Thanks for a lovely evening.’

  Bree threaded her thin arms around Chloe’s neck and hugged her hard. ‘I’ve missed you.’

  ‘I know, sweetheart. I’ve been so busy. But I hear you’ve been incredibly helpful to all sorts of people.’

  ‘But soon it will be Christmas and you’re going away.’

  ‘And then I’ll be back straight after New Year’s.’

  Bree nodded. ‘All right.’

  ‘See you then.’ Chloe kissed her again and Bree could smell her rather glamorous scent. She hoped her dad got to smell it, too, when he said goodnight to Chloe.

  She followed them to the front door and stood in the pool of light that spilled onto the path and watched as they walked to the Forester that was parked out the front. Her dad opened the passenger door for Chloe. She got in and then he walked around to the driver’s side.

  As far as Bree could tell, they weren’t talking at all. The motor roared, the lights came on and the Forester took off into the night. Bree closed the door and went inside, found the remote and flicked on the television. She didn’t mind if her dad took ages before he returned.

  To her dismay, he was back in less than ten minutes.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  It was a Sunday afternoon when Emily and Alex met Jess, Willow and Chloe in the parking area outside the nursing home. Letting Izzie know that she had a great-granddaughter had required a certain amount of courage on Emily’s behalf. There was no gentle way, really, of sharing such astonishing news.

  As Alex had predicted, Izzie reacted calmly – on the surface, at least – although Emily was sure she had been rocked by the revelation. It hadn’t been long, though, before Izzie asked to meet Jess and Willow. And then, somehow, Chloe had become involved. Izzie had, apparently, struck up quite a friendship with Chloe, had even agreed to let Chloe write a feature story about her wartime experiences for the Bugle.

  ‘There was a time when a story about my pilot days might have annoyed Alex,’ Izzie had commented to Emily. ‘Rubbed him up the wrong way, you know. But your husband seems to have mellowed.’

  Emily suppressed an urge to smile when she heard this. Perhaps the mellowing had been mutual, she decided. Her mother had even agreed to Chloe’s suggestion that she should publish a photo of Izzie with her new great-granddaughter, as part of a series of little stories she was writing about the nursing home.

  So. Here they were. It was to be quite an occasion. A proper afternoon tea. Everyone in the group, especially Willow, was smartly dressed, and Emily had made her mother’s favourite ginger fluff sponge. Now she carried this carefully, as the little group processed down the hallway to the dining room, which had been chosen as a suitable venue for such a gathering.

  Izzie was ready and waiting, sitting in her chair, dressed in her best pink jacket and skirt. Tammy had called in earlier to do Izzie’s hair and she had pinned a small posy to her jacket, and had given her a little rouge and lipstick, so that she looked quite perky and bright, as if she might, indeed, live forever. A table was set with a pretty cloth and teacups, saucers and plates.

  Jess was clearly a little nervous, but Chloe’s easy chatter helped to ease the way and soon everyone was relaxed and smiling. Willow was at her cherubic best, smiling and clappi
ng her hands and showing off her little teeth.

  Although, when she was placed in Izzie’s bony lap, the baby looked a bit uncertain. She stared up into the ancient face, so different from her mum’s, and her lower lip drooped, as if tears were imminent.

  Then Izzie, to everyone’s amazement, quacked like a duck, and Willow forgot about crying as she stared solemnly at the old lady with round, surprised eyes.

  ‘Do you like ducks?’ Izzie asked her in her cultured English voice, adding a smile and an extra, ‘Quack, quack, quack.’

  Willow’s lip drooped lower.

  ‘What about pussy cats?’ asked Izzie. ‘Meow?’

  ‘Oh, yes, she loves cats,’ enthused Jess. ‘Don’t you, pumpkin? She’s always trying to pull my cousin’s cat’s tail.’

  Perhaps her mother’s approval did the trick. To everyone’s relief, Willow smiled again and she continued to smile happily as Chloe snapped photos of her with her great-grandmother.

  As they eventually settled Willow and her toys on a rug on the floor, while the adults tucked into the tea and cake, Chloe asked Emily, ‘Have you decided who Willow looks like?’

  Emily had indeed searched Willow’s little face for a likeness to Robbie, but she hadn’t really found one. ‘To be honest, I thought she reminded me of —’ She paused, aware that her answer might not be welcome.

  Alex piped up. ‘Were you going to say that she looks like Izzie?’

  ‘Well, yes, I was, actually.’ No doubt it seemed a ridiculous comparison to anyone who hadn’t known her mother when she was younger, but there was something about the baby’s face, about her eyes, especially, an expression that seemed incredibly familiar to Emily.

  ‘That’s what I thought, too,’ said Alex.

  ‘You think she looks like me?’ asked Izzie. ‘Really? But I’m almost a hundred.’

  ‘Still, I can see it,’ Alex said and he smiled. ‘I’ve known you for a long time now, remember.’

  ‘Goodness.’ Izzie seemed quite taken aback.

  ‘That’s lovely,’ joined in Chloe.

  Even Jess was nodding. ‘I’ve never been able to decide who Willow looks like,’ she said. ‘But I think you’re probably right. Isn’t it amazing how these likenesses can pass down through the generations?’

  ‘There you go, Izzie,’ said Alex. ‘A glimpse of immortality.’

  ‘Oh, dear.’ Without warning, Izzie’s eyes filled with tears.

  Emily gasped at the sight. Her mother never cried. She never allowed herself to give in to such weakness.

  ‘Mum, are you all right?’ She slipped quickly to her mother’s side.

  Izzie managed a small smile through her tears and she nodded. ‘It’s just so wonderful, isn’t it? Robbie’s baby here with us.’ Tears streamed down her cheeks as she turned to Jess. ‘Thank you, my dear. You’ve made an old lady very happy.’

  Of course, they were all a bit teary then. Teary and smiling. Willow, oblivious to all the emotion, crawled to play with Alex’s shoelaces and, as his shoes were clean this time, he let her. She tugged at the laces until she finally got one completely undone, and Emily thought how fitting it was that Izzie Oakshott Galbraith’s determined spirit might live on in this cute little descendant.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  The next week passed in a blur for Chloe. It was a week of many small tasks, both at work and at home, of jobs that just seemed to keep mounting. At the Bugle, a surprising number of end-of-year events needed to be reported. And outside office hours, Chloe dealt with all the usual pre-Christmas fever of gift-purchasing and wrapping, of cards to be sent or responded to, of packing for her return to Sydney.

  Chloe had also found it necessary to try a little Christmas baking. She had received a host of unexpected gifts from people she’d met in the course of her work and she wanted to give something back. This had resulted in an evening spent making shortbread cookies cut into tree and star shapes, and nougat filled with dried cranberries and pistachios for a Christmassy look. These, wrapped in cellophane and tied with a tartan bow, had been well received.

  On top of these tasks, there had been the trip to Cairns for the nerve-racking interview and assessments at the fertility clinic. Chloe made the journey down from the mountains in some trepidation. She had never enjoyed visiting doctors, and this time she’d felt as if her entire future happiness depended on the visit. If her body proved unsuitable for motherhood, she had nothing to look forward to.

  Of course, a large part of her low mood was caused by a need to distance herself emotionally from Finn. In the new year, he would almost certainly agree to let his daughter stay in Burralea. He and Bree would settle together in some lovely home, like the one on the side of a hill that Bree had enthused about. If Chloe was to be any part of that picture, it would be as Finn’s bit on the side.

  No, thank you.

  Chloe had tried to be sensible. At the barbecue she had been pleased to see Finn and Bree so happy together. It really was wonderful to know that they had discovered a new and deeper bond, and that they seemed to be finally moving on after their terrible tragedy. Despite Chloe’s best efforts, however, her common sense had not been strong enough to lift her deepening sadness. She’d spent a miserable night after the barbecue and a horrible Sunday, crying and feeling extremely sorry for herself.

  On Monday morning she had emerged from a grey haze of wretchedness and decided that her choices were clear. To continue a casual affair with Finn was out of the question. And, while she had the rest of her life to find another man, the right man – even though she had her doubts about ever finding anyone who suited her better than Finn – she did not have the rest of her life to have a child.

  She still wanted a child. A child of her own. Her own Bree or Willow. Now. Before she ran out of time.

  To her relief, the visit to the clinic had gone well, and she had been given the all clear and sent home with a cooler bag of medication and instructions to inject herself daily in order to stimulate her egg production.

  Unfortunately, this had posed a major challenge. Chloe was dead scared of needles and had no partner to help her. But this challenge had also been her reality check, an important test of her motivation. If she wanted to have a baby on her own, she had no choice but to get used to doing all manner of things without help.

  For all these reasons, it had been a huge week, an exhausting week. Chloe had only to look in the mirror to see how strained and tired she was.

  If she arrived on her parents’ doorstep looking like this, they would start fussing and worrying and muttering about the terrible mistake she’d made in moving so far away. Clearly, a restorative hot bath and a facial were in order.

  Ten minutes later, Chloe lay in a deep and blissfully hot bath, with her hair wrapped in a towel and her face covered in a lavender mask. It was so good. The scent of lavender always calmed her and she could feel her limbs relaxing in the hot water. She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then another.

  Yes, this was a great idea. Already, she was beginning to feel so much better.

  She began to plan. Tomorrow she would drive back to Cairns airport with Jess and Willow, who were also having Christmas with family in Sydney. Chloe was looking forward to a good long chat with Jess, who had managed so brilliantly as a single mum and under tragic circumstances. Jess was seriously considering returning to the north in the new year and resuming her career as a physiotherapist, which would be wonderful.

  Lying there now, in the warm, scented suds, Chloe thought about the friends she had made since she’d arrived in Burralea. Jess, Tammy and Emily had all dealt with very real stress and heartbreak. Beside their problems, Chloe realised that her own boyfriend issues were quite pathetic by comparison.

  I really should count my blessings. I have my health, a fun circle of friends, a steady job and —

  From below came the annoying ring of the doorbell.

  Nooo!

  Immediately tense, Chloe sat up, willing whoever it was to go away. P
erhaps, if she was very quiet, the caller would think she wasn’t home. She waited, sitting very still and not making so much as a ripple in the bathwater. The bell rang again.

  Damn. She tried to think who it might be at this hour. She wondered if it could be Moira, coming back for something important that she’d forgotten, only to realise she hadn’t brought her key. She supposed she had better peep through the bathroom window and try to see who was down below.

  With a heavy sigh, Chloe heaved herself out of the tub, grabbed a towel to catch the worst of the drips and padded, with wet, bare feet, to the window. From this angle, an awning blocked her view of the front door. At least the street was empty at this time of night, so she pushed the window wider and leaned out as far as she dared.

  Finn was standing on the footpath.

  Whack. Chloe’s heart slammed hard.

  What on earth was he doing here? They had said goodbye in the Bugle office and she had given him a jar filled with nougat and a gift for Bree.

  Now he was back.

  If she’d been thinking quickly enough, she would have ducked out of view. Unfortunately, Finn had already seen her. He grinned, lifted a hand to wave. ‘Chloe!’

  It was a wonder he recognised her with her head wrapped, turban style, in a yellow towel, and her face covered by a gooey purple mask. ‘What do you want?’ she called.

  ‘To see you.’

  Her impulse was to tell him to go away. She was supposed to be relaxing, and already he had made her pulse rate skyrocket. But if she refused to see him now, she would spend the entire Christmas break wondering why he’d come, what he’d wanted to say. Even so, she certainly wasn’t going downstairs to meet him in a towel and a purple mask.

  ‘I’ll need a moment or two,’ she called.

  ‘Take your time.’

  Of course she rushed, scraping at the creamy mask with tissues and then washing her face with warm water to get rid of lingering traces of purple. She looked a bit pink and blotchy after the scrubbing and she considered using make-up, but then asked herself why she should bother. It was only her editor.