The Summer Sisters

by Lilly Mirren

  It wasn’t a bad idea. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more appealing it became. She gave a quick nod. “Okay. I think it might work. Of course, I’m not sure how everything will get done…”

  He stroked a wisp of hair away from her face. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  It was one of his favourite sayings; he said it to her often. Whenever she worried about something that could happen, or should happen but might not, he’d bring comfort to her, calm her with those words. It was a saying his mother used. That was what he’d told her. She’d been quiet then, pensive, thinking through what it must be like for a mother to lose her son to a country on the other side of the world. Sydney seemed far enough for her. She couldn’t imagine having Keith disappear around the globe to build his family.

  She shivered. “I think I’ll go out to the garden, do some digging. It always helps me feel better.”

  The garden was her happy place. It stretched from near the chook pen almost all the way to the stables. A rectangular swathe of land that was hers, only hers, to do with as she liked. Paul had built it for her years ago, and she’d tended it lovingly ever since. It held the precious Waratah bushes she’d brought as seeds from Bathurst when they first moved to Cabarita. It also held the vegetables, salads, and some of the fruit Mima served to the inn’s guests. Edie took pride in the fact that their menu was filled with fresh garden produce. She loved digging in the dirt, pulling weeds, and patiently tending to plants until they burst through the soil, reached skyward, and blossomed.

  Edie carried her small bag of garden tools over one shoulder, a rake balanced beneath her arm, through the neat garden gate. She set everything on the ground, then squinted through the glare of the sun to where Mima lay, on a banana lounge, in her red and white polka dot bikini. A tent-like round hat balanced on top of her head, large white rimmed sunglasses peering out from beneath its brim.

  “Hey, hon.”

  Mima worked hard in the kitchen, but never seemed to have trouble taking time off to rest when her job was done, unlike Edie.

  Mima stirred, yawned. “Oh, hi Edie. Time for some gardening?”

  Edie nodded and raised a small shovel in one gloved hand as a kind of salute.

  She set to work, loosening the soil around a newly planted set of snap pea vines. They’d burst through the dirt a week earlier, and she was concerned it might be too early in the season. Thankfully, the cool nights were growing warmer each day and there was no chance of a frost this far north.

  Her thoughts returned to her granddaughter. Nyreeda Summer had been born a year earlier, though Paul and his wife Mary called her Reeda, and Edie liked the name right away. She’d immediately convinced Paul to drive them both to Sydney, leaving the inn entirely in Mima’s care for a full two weeks. Mima had insisted she could take care of things, and Edie had to admit she’d managed it — in fact she’d done better than Edie could’ve hoped. As Paul pointed out, it was high time Edie gave her friend credit for pulling her life back together.

  The sight of Reeda’s little fists pumping in the air, hearing her mewling cry, all of it had brought tears to Edie’s eyes. She was a beautiful child. Edie had spent the two weeks of their visit cradling little Reeda in her arms and helping Mary around the house. She was conscious of not wanting to get in her daughter-in-law’s way, but Mary was loving, patient and made Edie and Paul feel right at home in their rented, three-bedroom brick home.

  If only they lived closer. Edie longed to be able to see Reeda’s sweet face every day. She’d be so much bigger now. It was time for her and Paul to plan another visit south. Perhaps they’d go for Christmas.

  “Everything okay, hon?” Mima’s voice broke through her reverie.

  Her friend leaned against the rickety garden fence her curves hugged by the fashionable bikini.

  Edie glanced up at her with a half-smile. “Thinking about Reeda, how much I miss her. That’s all.”

  “I can’t wait to see her,” replied Mima with a wistful smile.

  “I feel like I’m always missing people,” huffed Edie, digging the shovel harder into the dirt.

  “That’s life, my love.”

  Mima’s flippant remark only stirred anger in her veins. What did she mean? Of course it was part of life, as though Edie didn’t know it. She knew it better than anyone.

  “I know that,” she hissed.

  “Don’t get pissy with me,” replied Mima.

  Edie sighed. “I’m sorry, only I feel as though I’ve lost everyone I’ve loved. If they haven’t passed, they live so far away I hardly get to see them…” She sighed, stopped digging, and settled back on her haunches.

  “Thinking about Charlie again?” asked Mima, chewing on her lower lip.

  “Always,” replied Edie.

  It was true, he was never far from her thoughts. How long had it been since she’d seen his face? Too long. She barely remembered what he looked like. His face used to be etched in her brain, now it was nothing but a whisper. Had he even been real?

  Mima sighed. “Sweetheart, I say this with love…you have a wonderful life here. Is it perfect? No, of course not because nothing is. But from the outside looking in, it’s pretty darned close.”

  Edie’s heart contracted. She knew how Mima longed to have a family of her own. Back when they were younger it was all she’d wanted. When she lost her fiancé in the war, she’d never fully recovered from it, and had given up on the idea of love. Edie was blessed: she had Paul, Keith and his family, her parents — even if they did live so far away. She should be grateful, she knew that. Sometimes it was hard to keep things in the right perspective though, especially during the everyday slog of life.

  “I know…you’re right.”

  Mima shook her head. “Your husband adores you, sometimes I think you take that for granted. I wish…I wish Ollie were here, looking at me the way Paul looks at you. You don’t know how lucky you are.” Mima’s voice wavered and she cleared her throat. “I’m not trying to razz you, only pointing out what you’re clearly missing.”

  Edie swallowed, dipped her head. “I miss Keith and Mary, little Reeda, my parents…Charlie.” The last was said in a whisper, almost as though she were ashamed to admit it, but it was true. She missed him. Oh, she loved Paul, there was no doubt about that, but the love she’d lost in the war always lingered in the recesses of her mind. What might have been, what couldn’t be, the life she’d lost the day he was captured.

  Mima pushed through the garden gate, took Edie’s hand, and tugged her to her feet. Edie stood with a groan.

  “Sweetheart, you know how much I care about you. You’re my family, you’re my best friend, but I have to tell you something…”

  Edie held her breath, waiting for the words she knew were coming.

  “You’ve got to let go of the past. It’s time to bury those memories. They’ve got a hold on you, and you’re not living your life the way it should be lived — fully vested, fully committed. You’re stuck in the past, and it’s holding you back. There’s nothing any of us can do to fix what’s been done, or to take back the lives that were ripped from our hands all those years ago. But what we can do is choose to put it all behind us and live in this moment. Paul deserves that, and so do you.”

  When Edie was finished working in the garden, she put her tools away, Mima’s words still ringing in her ears. Had she lived too long in the past? She felt the truth of it yet hadn’t realised it until the moment Mima spoke it out loud.

  She hurried inside to wash her hands, then strode into the owner’s suite. The queen-sized bed was neatly made, a bunch of fresh flowers sat in a vase on a side table, their sweet scent filling the room. Colourful swirling wallpaper lined the walls, giving the room a vibrant look, and bright orange curtains peeled back from a square window that looked out across the yard towards the sound of the waves sighing in the cove.

  She sat on the bed, careful not to wrinkle the bedspread too badly, and pulled a wooden box out from beneath
it. She straightened, then flipped open the lid. Her fingers traced the carvings, the head of the horse she’d loved so well for so long, the lines of flowers and vines that blended away from it. A smile tugged at her lips, even as tears blurred her vision.

  So many memories, so much loss.

  She sighed as she turned the small, silver ring around and around on her pinky finger. She pulled it free, and set it in the box, her heart aching with a pain she hadn’t felt in years. Grief wracked her body with sobs.

  The ring sat in the middle of the box, small, alone. She stared at it, as tears wound their way down her cheeks. She pulled her gaze away and opened her bedside drawer. A stack of journals was piled in there, along with some knitting and the latest Agatha Christie novel. She took the journals out of the drawer, patted around inside it to make sure she’d retrieved them all, then stacked them inside the box as well.

  Edie said a prayer for Charlie, for the love she’d lost so long ago, and for the wound that still ached in her heart.

  “Goodbye,” she whispered. “Farewell, my love.”

  A groan issued from the depths of her gut and she covered her mouth with one hand. It was time to move on, to put the past behind her. More than time. She’d married another, raised a family, she was a grandmother. How could this wound still carry on its wings so much raw pain?

  The lid flipped shut with a dull thud. Edie knelt beside the bed and pushed the box beneath it. She couldn’t bear to get rid of it entirely, but for now it could lay hidden in the darkness. Forgotten.

  She stood to her feet, smoothed the front of her bright yellow culottes, and inhaled a long slow breath. Then, she wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand and strode from the room, pulling the door shut with a solid click behind her.

  7

  October 1996

  Cabarita Beach

  Bindi lay on her bed staring at the ceiling. She’d retreated upstairs to take a nap and had slept for a good two hours. Her eyes were leaden, her thoughts disoriented. She rolled onto her side to look at the clock on the bedside table. It was eight o’clock at night, which meant the tea service would be almost over. The rush would be past, and her stomach cramped with hunger.

  She swung her legs over the side of the bed with a yawn and sat up, then clamped her hands to either side of her head to stave off the dizziness that enveloped her. She waited, breathing deep. Finally ready, she headed downstairs. She hadn’t even taken a moment to glance in the mirror. She must look a fright, but she didn’t care. She was tired, sick, and hungry. She couldn’t pretend everything was okay any longer.

  On her way to the dining room, she passed the sitting room. The glow of a lamp caught her eye and she glanced inside to see Brendan, seated in an armchair with a book open in his lap.

  He looked up at her, smiled and shut the book, then strode towards her. “There you are. I was wondering when you’d show. Kate told me you usually come downstairs for some tea, then take it up to your room. I thought we could eat together…if that’s okay with you?”

  Bindi gave a mute nod. Brendan fell into step beside her. “You okay, honey? You look a little tired.”

  She wanted to laugh, but that might seem rude, or a bit unhinged. Instead, she offered him a tight smile. “Yes, I am tired actually. I had a nap, and I’m not really awake yet.”

  He nodded. “Ah, right. That’s why the hair thing…” He waved a hand at her hair with a wry smile.

  “Bad?”

  “No, not bad. Cute…actually, this trend might catch on. The bed-head look is in at the moment, right?”

  He’d always had a way of disarming her when she was feeling tense, or when things between them got too heated.

  “That’s right. It’s called bed-head chic. I really think we’ll see it on the runways in Paris soon.”

  They laughed together as the seating hostess found them a table. Bindi wasn’t used to eating in the dining room with the guests, usually preferring instead to eat with her sisters on the verandah when they were around, or otherwise by herself in her room in front of an episode of Neighbours. Thinking about it made her wonder if perhaps she’d invested in building enough of a life for herself in Cabarita. She’d been living there for over a year and yet hadn’t really made any friendships outside the inn.

  They ordered their meals and Bindi took a sip of the sparkling water their waitress brought them while they waited. Brendan talked to her about everything going on in Melbourne, and she found she didn’t miss it at all. Hearing about their friends’ lives and what was happening in the community of journalists she’d been part of made her grateful she’d walked away from it all. She loved her quiet life in Cabarita. She should’ve made the move much sooner and might have if she hadn’t been waiting for Brendan to be ready to get serious about their relationship. How many years had she wasted on him?

  When their meals arrived, they each fell silent for a few moments. Kate’s steak pie with mashed potatoes and fresh vegetables was one of Bindi’s favourites. She sliced off a piece of the pie and savoured the taste as the flavours of steak, onion, mushrooms, and gravy exploded in her mouth.

  “This is delicious,” said Brendan around a mouthful of pastry.

  Bindi nodded. “Kate makes delicious food.”

  “That’s right, I forgot Kate was cooking here. The whole place is really impressive, Bindi.” He glanced around the dining room. “It’s a beautiful inn, the food is amazing, the ambience is perfect. Well done.”

  She glowed beneath his praise. It felt good to have Brendan compliment what they’d built, even if he wasn’t in her life anymore. She was proud of herself and her sisters and loved hearing the confirmation of the work they’d done from other people as well.

  “Thank you, we’re really happy with how it turned out.”

  “I still can’t believe that twit at Channel Four fired you,” he said, leading into a subject that was still a little raw for Bindi.

  She flinched. “Yeah, it was hard walking away, knowing that it was my fault, that I’d destroyed the career I’d dreamed of having for so long.”

  He shook his head, chewed, and swallowed. “But it wasn’t your fault at all. It was your fact checker. I asked around after you left, and apparently Debbie and Tim were having an affair. He threw you under the bus for her, because of their relationship.”

  Bindi’s breath caught in her throat. She knew Debbie was messing around with someone in the office but hadn’t known for sure it was their boss. It made sense though, given the way Debbie wouldn’t say who she was seeing. She’d even wondered about it a few times.

  “Wow. I didn’t know that.”

  “Yeah, he shouldn’t have done it.”

  Bindi sighed. “I see what you’re saying, but it doesn’t matter — Debbie was working for me, I was responsible. I should’ve checked up on her work. It was my mistake.”

  Brendan sighed, reached for her hand, and squeezed it. “You’re always so good.”

  She grunted. “Am I?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, you always do the right thing. You’re really too good, actually.” His eyes sparkled. “Sometimes I wish you’d just forget about being good for a little while and call them names or something.”

  “That would make you feel better?”

  “A little,” he admitted.

  She took another bite of pie, still thinking about what he’d said. Most of the time she’d worked with Debbie, she’d had no idea Debbie was dating Tim. And the worst of it was, Tim was married and had two children. Had he left his wife? Bindi didn’t think so, which meant he’d been having an affair with her fact checker. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to discipline Debbie for her shoddy work.

  “You’ve got a good thing going here, Bindi,” said Brendan, interrupting her thoughts. “I wish I had something like this to go to.”

  She frowned. “But you love your job.”

  He shrugged, digging through the pile of carrots and peas on his plate with his fork. “Yeah, but I don’t thin
k it’s going to work out. My boss has it in for me.”

  “Why, what happened?” Her eyes narrowed. This was a pattern with Brendan. He seemed hardly able to stay in any job for more than a couple of years.

  “Oh you know, the usual stuff. Anyway, I told you I’d ask around for you, and Pete was really interested when I told him about your work and that you were available.”

  Bindi set down her fork to listen.

  Brendan studied her face a moment, then continued. “He’s pretty upset with me right now about an argument we had. He threatened to fire me, but he said that if you come back to Melbourne with me, we could work together, and he’d forget the whole thing. He’s a fan of your work, apparently. Wants to get together to talk about it, about opportunities at the newspaper. Says he knows Tim, thinks he’s a self-serving bottom feeder — his words, not mine.”

  “I don’t have any experience as a newspaper journalist,” she countered.

  “He knows that, but he thinks you’d be perfect for this column he’s been wanting to launch, all about Generation X.”

  “Generation X?”

  “Yeah, that’s what they’re calling us, you know, our generation.”

  She inhaled a slow breath. Was this the real reason he’d come to Cabarita to see her? To save his own job? He didn’t miss her at all, just wanted her to come back to Melbourne so his boss wouldn’t fire him.

  “That’s why you’re here?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No, it’s one of the reasons, but like I told you — I miss you. We were good together. I’m confused… I don’t know what I want. But I had to see you. Give me another chance…that’s all I ask.”

  Bindi’s head spun. He missed her. He needed her. Wanted her to come back to Melbourne with him. But she’d moved on with her life. Still, journalism had been her dream. If she could get a job at a newspaper in Melbourne, would that be enough? Would that mean more to her than running the inn?

  “I don’t know…” she said. “I need some time to think about all of this. It’s a lot.”