An Endless Summer

by C. J. Duggan

  I had discovered Dad in the garden as a result of escaping her flurry of activity.

  I pulled out a seat, scraping the legs along the concrete.

  My dad’s weary eyes snapped up from his paper. “Hey, Chook.”

  I sighed, rubbing my hands nervously on my thighs. “Not long now.”

  He smiled a small smile. “No.”

  I had thought I was in a pretty good place, that I had finally accepted and would be all right, but sitting opposite my dad’s sorrowful eyes I felt a lump rise in my throat. Keeping the hotel just for me wasn’t enough; they’d had to want it, too. I could see in my dad’s grey complexion, the lines etched around his eyes, that he was stressed, anxious and tired.

  So tired. In reality, his heart hadn’t been here for a long time. He had been oblivious to the hotel as it had fallen down around him. I had just never thought to look beyond the rubble.

  “Dad?”

  “Yeah, love?”

  “It’s going to be all right. I know I haven’t said that to you, but whatever happens… I just wanted you to know that.”

  “It hasn’t been an easy decision, love, but I just …”

  “It’s okay.” I squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to explain.”

  I didn’t really have anything else to add; I mean, what was I meant to say in times like this? Good luck? Here’s to the end of life as we know it? Hardly felt right. Instead, I shifted my seat back, got up and wrapped my arms around him for a silent moment before pecking him on the cheek and walking away.

  ***

  The agent had said it would probably be best if we remained inside during the auction, but I couldn’t stomach not knowing what was happening outside. Melba was on standby, fetching Mum and Dad cups of tea, while Chris’s parents, Aunty Lynda and Uncle Ray, buzzed around anxiously, speculating what it would go for. That’s right, ‘it’, as if the Onslow, our pub, my home, was worth nothing more than money now. That it wasn’t a family home that had been handed down for generations, that it wasn’t a part of me. The talk of money made my stomach turn and I could feel a familiar anger boil within me.

  I have to get out of here.

  As I shoved the front door open and joined the bustling crowd outside I was hit with a fresh summer breeze that blew in from the lake. I tried to convince myself that it was the reason my eyes had become so shiny. The car park was packed, filled with unknown cars and faces. My skin crawled at the idea of all these people clambering around me, around my home. I scanned the crowd frantically for a familiar face, any face, but more urgently I searched for Sean. I hadn’t seen him since yesterday in the bar with Toby; and through the chaos we hadn’t even spoken. But I had never doubted that he would be out here somewhere, that he would have come, knowing what today meant for me.

  I momentarily entertained the possibility that he had not come. A coldness swept over me at the thought. I really didn’t want to have to think about how I would feel about that.

  I let out a long, shuddery breath as I tried to rein in my emotions as they battled inside me. I felt a reassuring squeeze to my shoulders and I spun around to see Tammy’s warm, comforting face.

  “You all right?” She offered me a sad smile.

  The only thing that prevented me from losing it was the fact that Toby’s parents stood nearby. Matthew Morrison playfully bumped my chin with his fist.

  “She’s all right!” he said, trying to lighten the mood.

  I smiled in good humour, but my legs shook underneath me. I clenched my hands into fists to stop the tremor that would give my nerves, my dread away.

  “Have you seen Sean?” I scanned the crowd once more, my eyes darting amongst the nearing crowd as an anxious hum of voices settled over the masses. They looked over their pamphlets and murmured in clusters, speculating about what was to come: how much the hotel would go for, what it would become. Everywhere I looked a new-found dread made my heart rate spike. Mr. Brewster, the pharmacist, and his stiff-upper-lipped wife stood to the far right, whispering to one another, their beady eyes trailing hungrily over the exterior of the hotel.

  My eyes passed over the crowd before locating a familiar face. Tess smiled and offered a small wave, standing by her parents who were in deep conversation, their faces masked behind their brochures. I allowed myself a moment of peace, of hope, of relief. They were here. It looked like they were really going to bid.

  As time marched on towards the hour, I knew that Sean wasn’t coming. A numbness filled me, the crowd a mesh of shapes and colour that I refused to look over anymore.

  I was snapped out of my trance by an irritatingly chipper voice.

  “Oh, turn that frown upside down, Miss Henderson. The sun is shining – it’s as if Mother Nature herself has blessed us with this beautiful day.”

  I blinked at a balding, beanpole of a man in a suit as he wrestled with one of the auction flags on the verandah. He looked more like a creepy funeral director than an auctioneer.

  He dusted off his hands and straightened his tie. “Make no mistake, folks, we will sell today.” He beamed, as if I should be bowing down to him in gratitude, as if he had just given me the best news of my life. I glared at him unenthusiastically and he soon got the hint.

  He coughed. “Right, better get this show on the road.” He excused himself.

  I felt the press of someone next to me. “What a wanker!”

  I turned to find Adam and Ellie by my side. I didn’t have to voice the fact that I was happy to see them. Adam and I gave each other a silent exchange just through a look, a look that said ‘I know’. Even though he could be so infuriatingly annoying, as he gave my hand a reassuring squeeze I had never been so happy to have him with me.

  Max slid in between him and Ellie. “Look out – grey suit, two o’clock,” he said in a low voice.

  We all turned to where we thought two o’clock was, which, naturally, was all in opposite directions.

  “Where?” Ellie whined loudly, stepping on tiptoes.

  Max sighed, shaking his head, and pointed. “There.”

  We looked over to the outskirts of the gathered crowd on the drive to a tall man in an expensive grey suit, who was talking into his mobile phone.

  “Sydney buyers,” Max added glumly.

  My heart sank.

  I turned, expecting to see a mirrored image of hopelessness in Adam, but instead I was surprised to see a wry smile. I followed his line of vision, confused at what could evoke such a look at a time like this.

  I froze. In the very distance the crowd was parting, and continued to do so in a wave of annoyance as people stepped aside. Making their way towards the Onslow steps, like they had a thousand times before, were Toby, Stan, Ringer and Chris, all led by Sean.

  Emotion so raw slammed into me as I watched him lead the Onslow Boys towards the hotel. I fought the urge not to run across the drive and fling my arms around him, so grateful to see him appear out of the crowd. Toby peeled off to stand near Tess and her parents for support, but Sean and the others made a direct line up the steps and closed the distance between us. Stan was talking to Sean but he wasn’t paying attention, too busy taking in the crowd on the verandah. His expression was serious and intense until his eyes found me.

  I held my breath as our eyes locked on each other. Sean’s broody exterior soon melted into a familiar warmth that instantly soothed me. I felt like I could face anything now he was there, that everything would be okay.

  There was no time to exchange pleasantries as the auctioneer banged his gavel and called for the crowd’s attention, motioning everyone into place as the murmurs fell into silence and people crept forward to attention. I half expected the boys to pause and stop where they were near the steps, but Sean strode towards me.

  Paying no attention to the commotion, he walked straight over, never once taking his eyes from me. He winked at me, flashing a devilish smile that caused my heart to skip a beat.

  In front of the entire town of Onslow, he stood … by my side. />
  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Once again I was lost.

  The auctioneer started to fire up the crowd with his witty charm and brainwashing spiel.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s as if Mother Nature herself had blessed us with this fine day,” he said with a jovial laugh.

  “Ugh! Is he serious?” Ellie groaned.

  “I think this bloke needs to think of some new material for his stand-up routine,” Adam added under his breath.

  There was a collective snicker amongst our group, but it failed to raise any humour in me. I fazed in and out of the auction as it unfolded before me, catching only the edges of what he was calling out.

  “Make no mistake, ladies and gentlemen, this is a historical landmark, lovingly developed and maintained over successive years by four generations of the Henderson family.”

  Each word was like a knife in my heart. I could feel my chest tightening, my eyes welling when something unexpected happened. Fingers laced with mine, palm pressed to palm, a reassuring squeeze that broke my misery spiral as I looked to my side.

  Sean.

  I studied his profile – he never broke the stern lines of his face as he, like the rest, stoically watched on.

  “Here we go,” muttered Stan.

  “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, let’s do what we came here to do and find this grand old lady a history-breaking new owner. Bearing in mind, this property comes with no bar code – you can’t scan happiness.”

  I squeezed Sean’s hand so hard I thought I might break it.

  “Don’t be shy, ladies and gentlemen, raise those hands to the sky, nice and high so I can see them. Where we at? Where will we begin? Today’s the day to make your claim on this wonderful lakeside property. Look at those views, ladies and gentlemen, the best in town. Can’t you just picture yourself downing a cold one from these balconies? It could be you. Who will start me off? Don’t be shy.”

  This was it. Oh, God, this was it. My heart pounded hard in my chest as I waited for the first bid.

  Silence. I allowed myself a foolish moment of hope when no one spoke. Maybe it wouldn’t sell. Maybe I could keep it. Maybe I could stay—

  A voice called from the crowd. I closed my eyes, my heart plummeting as the faceless voice slammed me back into reality, into a living nightmare.

  “Four hundred?” the auctioneer asked, blinking. “It’s a cheeky low bid, sir, but nevertheless I’ll take it. Where we at? Where we at? Who wants the rope?” he called.

  Mr. Brewster raised his hand to the sky. “Four fifty!”

  The suspense was terrible; it was a blur of faceless calls and clichéd shouts from the auctioneer that had my mind whirring in a blind panic until I heard the unmistakable voice of Jeff McGee.

  “Six hundred!” He raised his hand.

  My head snapped up to attention. Sean shifted beside me, too, as we both tensed at the new bidder – the McGees.

  “I have your six hundred, sir. Where we at, people, where we at?” He turned towards Mr Brewster who glowered at the McGees and sternly nodded, raising his hand.

  “Six hundred and fifty,” he called.

  “Thank you, sir, I like your style,” the auctioneer crooned.

  Toby squeezed Tess’s shoulders. Her colour had drained from her face and her eyes were as wide as saucers as her dad raised his arm again.

  Mr McGee: “Six sixty.”

  Mr Brewster: “Six seventy.”

  Mr McGee: “Six eighty.”

  Mr Brewster: “Six ninety!”

  An anxious Jeff McGee raised his hand one more time. “Six nine five.”

  That’s when I saw it; the look from Jenny McGee as she squeezed Jeff’s arm and they met each other’s eyes.

  They were at their limit.

  No-no-no-no-no.

  I bit my lip, my eyes blurring as dread swept over me. I looked at Sean – his jaw pulsed with tension as he watched the auction. I turned to see Chris looking grim as we waited for Mr Brewster to make a decision. He muttered urgently to his wife and an agent who had approached, no doubt encouraging them to push on.

  I hadn’t realised I was holding my breath until it came out in a long shudder when Mr Brewster raised his hand. “Seven hundred.”

  The crowd murmured and all eyes were on the McGees.

  Jeff looked stone-faced, straight and stoic, like he could take on the world. I would have believed he could if it wasn’t for the sad, defeated eyes of Jenny McGee, who looked upon her husband.

  It felt like an eternity as another agent approached the McGees, whispering and trying all their best lines to convince them to go just one more.

  I was frozen, my heart the only movement as it drummed in my ears. My eyes never wavered from the McGees until … Mr McGee lowered his head and shook it. No.

  They were out.

  I felt my world fall away. I had had my heart set on the McGees buying the Onslow, keeping it in the family, so to speak. With them as owners, nothing would have changed; it would still have been run as a hotel and would have held the same people and memories as before.

  But now Mr Brewster nodded in triumph and the auctioneer called for the crowd’s attention. I could see the cogs turning in Brewster’s head as he pictured his new mansion for himself and his awful wife. I couldn’t believe it had come to this. My heart ached.

  “Seven hundred and fifty.”

  What the frack?

  Everyone looked around them, dumbfounded as to where the call had come from. Even the auctioneer seemed a bit jilted until he finally located the arm raised high.

  On the edge of the crowd, an arm was raised in the air from the grey-suited businessman.

  The Sydney buyers.

  “No!” My chin trembled.

  It was one thing to think of the Brewsters getting their claws into my home, but for the rich city buyers to come in and turn it into a bed and breakfast? To tear down its walls, to strip it of all its history and turn it into something that didn’t belong in our community? I couldn’t bear it.

  I broke away from Sean’s hold and pushed through the crowd of stunned onlookers before the tears fell. It was too much; too much to take. I ripped the bar room door open to see my parents, holding each other’s hands. They looked just as stunned as I did. I stormed past them towards the restaurant staircase.

  My dad reached out to me. “Honey—”

  “Don’t!” I shrugged him off and ran for the staircase, my staircase, for what would be the very last time.

  Chapter Fifty-Eight

  “The Brewsters didn’t get it.”

  I lifted my head from where it was buried in my knees, my face stained with tears and my cheeks flushed from crying so hard my chest ached. I didn’t know why I had come up to the balcony. What had drawn me there? Maybe because it was where it had all begun.

  My blurry vision settled on my dad who stood between the open French doors. If I’d had any energy, I probably would have screamed at him. Was he happy? Were Mum and Dad pleased with the money that would now line their pockets as they began their ‘new chapter’? Were they happy with the deal they had made with the Devil to make it so?

  “Grey suit?” I croaked.

  Dad nodded his head, his face expressionless.

  I scoffed, shaking my head. “Awesome.”

  “It was a bit of a battle but you probably heard it from up here,” Dad said.

  I had been so immersed in self-pity and hopelessness I hadn’t paid any attention to the sounds below. My world had crumbled as soon as Jeff McGee had shaken his head no. After that, little else had mattered.

  “Wow! A bed and breakfast,” I said. “How quaint.” My words dripped with sarcasm.

  My dad’s brows narrowed as he picked at the edge of the door frame.

  “Is that what you think they’ll do?” he asked.

  I glowered at him incredulously. “Dad! I was there; loitering on the steps when they brought the architect in. They were going to rip this out and smash that down. They know ex
actly what they want.” I was so furious with him, with how blasé he was being. It was as if the hotel meant nothing to him. Our ancestors would be rolling in their graves.

  “Well, why don’t we ask him what the new owners have planned?” Dad’s head tilted to the apartment.

  My mouth gaped open and a new fear spiked through me. I pulled myself to my feet.

  “Don’t you dare,” I whispered. “I don’t want to see anyone.”

  “Even me?”

  Sean appeared beside Dad in the doorway. My shoulders slumped in relief. Had Dad not been standing right there I would have run into his arms and cried into him.

  “Look, love, I don’t want to be rude. It will just take a sec to have a talk with the bloke.” Dad said.

  Before I could protest, Dad stepped aside and Mr Grey Suit walked through the French doors with a briefcase. He was tall, but not as tall as Sean, and he was polished, sleek. No doubt about it, he was from the city. He had a no-nonsense grace and all-business attitude that had me self-consciously running my fingers through my hair as I silently cursed my dad.

  Sean sidestepped and leaned against the door, watching on in stony silence.

  Ugh. I didn’t want to speak to him – what was there to say? I wished the balcony would just open up and swallow me… again!

  “You must be Amy. I’m Duncan Lawler.” He reached out to shake my hand.

  I unenthusiastically took it.

  “Forgive my daughter, Mr Lawler, but as you can appreciate it has been a rather stressful day,” my dad said.

  “Of course,” nodded Duncan.

  “Maybe, Mr Lawler, you can alleviate some of my daughter’s misconceptions. Are the new owners turning it into a B & B?”

  He frowned. “Please, call me Duncan. And, uh, it is my belief that there are no plans to turn it into a B & B.”

  “See?” nodded Dad.