“Don’t be. I had a great life, a wonderful life, and it’s certainly not over yet. There are still a few good years left in me yet. You never know when Prince Charming is going to turn up. Plus, I happen to believe that fifty is the new thirty.”
Becky scribbled down a few notes in the pad. “Do you have any children?” Becky asked.
Elise remained silent, contemplating her answer, then suddenly stood up. “And here is dinner,” she said, walking briskly over to Mallory and Polly, who were carrying trays of food. “Here,” Elise said, “let me help you with that.” She picked up the large platter of seafood from Mallory’s tray and placed it in the centre of the table.
The platter was laden with prawns, oysters, calamari, scallops, mud crab, and an odd looking orange crustacean with a fan-shaped tail.
“Help yourself, dear. I had a friend deliver all the seafood fresh from Cairns this morning. And don’t forget to try some on my homemade seafood dressing,” Elise said.
“This is an absolute feast,” Becky exclaimed, her stomach growling as she suddenly realised how hungry she was. With a quick calculation, and having slept through both breakfast and lunch on the plane, she realized she hadn’t eaten for almost two days.
Elise picked up a pair of tongs, chose the orange crustacean that looked more like a prehistoric fossil than anything remotely edible, and deposited it on the centre of Becky’s plate. Becky raised an eyebrow and studied the strange looking thing wearily. They didn’t expect her to eat that, did they?
“You have to try the bugs,” Elise continued. “They are so succulent. The flesh is in the tail.” She tapped the tail of the bug with the tongs.
Becky continued to stare at the alien crustacean with distain. Then she glanced up at Elise. “Are you going to eat one of these… bugs?” she asked suspiciously, eyeing the creature again, and wondering if this whole bug thing was some kind of a joke. She picked up a fork and poked the object on her plate.
“Of course,” Elise said. Picking one up in her hands, she crushed the shell, then flipping it over, she broke it apart to expose the creature’s flesh.
Becky was pleased to see the flesh was no green, jelly-like glob, but rather something closely resembling the flesh of a lobster, albeit smaller in size.
Elise forked out a piece of the white-orange flesh and popped it into her mouth, closing her eyes as she chewed. “Perfecto,” she mumbled, kissing her fingertips.
“And they’re… bugs?” Becky questioned, still not convinced that eating one would be a good idea on any level. “Like, bugs that fly around, like cockroaches or something?” Was this why Elise had lighted the candles along the table, to deter these massive flying bugs? She shuddered at the thought, pulling her scarf around her shoulders and sinking down into her chair whilst looking around cautiously. Perhaps she should suggest they light more candles, or better still, eat in the house. God forbid one of these things land on her head. She could imagine herself screaming, jumping bolt upright out of her chair, sending it tipping backwards as her arms flapped wildly at her head, trying without success to dislodge the creature busily burrowing itself into her skull. Another chill went down her spine. Fuuuuucccccckkkkkking hell… She could see the headlines now. English girl has her brains sucked out by giant bug while holidaying in Australia. Wouldn’t that give Roger and Mandy something to talk about when they weren’t screwing each other’s brains out?
Elise noticed the fearful look on Becky’s face. “What? Fly? No, nothing like that.” Elise chuckled. “I remember the first time I was introduced to Morton Bay Bugs. I was thinking the exact same thing – I was horrified! Morton Bay Bugs are also known as Bay Lobsters, Slipper Lobsters, Flathead Lobsters and Mud Bugs. They come from a place called Morton Bay, which is along the Queensland coast. Try it. If you like lobster, you’ll like bugs.” Elise showed Becky how to break open the shell once again, then offered the bug to Becky, who gingerly picked up a fork and extracted a small portion of the flesh, then hesitantly popped it into her mouth.
Straightening up in her chair, Becky began to nod, then smile. “You are right. These bugs are surprisingly delicious,” she said, savouring the sweet tasting flesh and helping herself to another. She couldn’t wait to tell Roger and Mandy how she’d… No, she thought, her heart suddenly sinking. She wouldn’t tell them anything.
Polly placed a large bowl of rocket and pumpkin salad, and a cane basket of warm bread rolls on the table. “Bread rolls, compliments of Mallory,” she added. “Just try stopping at one.” She pulled out a chair beside Becky, filled a glass with white wine, and sat down.
Mallory added bowls of pasta salad, a garden salad, and a bowl of rice salad to the table, then sat down next to Elise. “Dig in,” she said, helping herself to some of the prawns, bugs, and oysters.
“Wine?” Elise asked, raising the bottle towards Mallory.
“Why not?” Mallory replied, holding up her glass. “It’s a special occasion, after all.”
“To Becky,” the three women said, smiling broadly and raising their glasses.
Becky offered a small smile and raised her tea cup. “I feel like such a prude toasting with a cup of tea, but I just don’t think my stomach could handle a glass of wine, not just yet, anyhow. Cheers,” she said, clinking each glass of wine with her tea cup. “And thank you all so very much for such a warm welcome. I am so pleased to be here.” She looked at all the food laid out before her. “Everything looks just so delicious. It’s hard to know where to start.”
Elise picked up a warm bread roll absently from the basket and pried it open with her fingers, then put it on her plate. She looked squarely at Becky. “It’s just so wonderful having you here. I’ve thought about… Well it’s just so nice to have you here, that’s all,” she said, standing up, a pained look on her face. “Now, if you’ll all excuse me for just a moment, I think I’ll go fetch another bottle of wine. This one is just about done.”
“Is Elise okay?” Becky asked after a few moments. “She appears to be a little upset about something. I hope I haven’t said anything to upset her.”
“She’s fine,” Polly said, offering Becky the seafood platter. “She’s just a little overwhelmed. She has been very busy making sure everything is just perfect for the opening in a few days.”
“Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix,” Mallory added quickly, buttering a bread roll and layering it with a row of peeled prawns and lettuce leaves.
“Is Gary going to be joining us for dinner?” Becky asked, watching Polly peeling the biggest prawn she had ever seen. She instantly thought of Mandy’s apartment, and wondered if the strategically placed prawns had begun to stink yet. She bit her bottom lip and covered her mouth with a hand, trying to hide her smile.
“Not tonight,” Polly said. “He has quite a lot on. He’s helping with the renovations at the pub, and he has a meeting with the owner tonight.”
Becky nodded. “It’s just that I’d really like to apologize to him in person for the tool bag. I feel so embarrassed about that.”
“I’m sure he’s already forgotten about it,” Polly said, chuckling. “I’m sure he’ll be able to laugh about it… one day.” Polly peeled another prawn, dipped it into the seafood sauce on the side of her plate, and then popped it in her mouth. “I’m taking a drive to Malanda tomorrow to pick up some cheese and handmade chocolates for the opening, if you’d like to come with me, Becky?”
“Yes. I would love that. There are a couple of things I would like to pick up. Is there a chemist nearby?”
“Are you not well?” Mallory asked with concern, a frown creasing her brow.
“Oh, no. I’m fine.” Both women stopped eating and looked at her suspiciously. “Really, I’m fine,” she repeated, smiling, and helping herself to another serving of prawns. Well, at least she hoped she was fine. There had still been no sign of her period. She pushed it out of her mind and changed the subject. “I can’t get enough of these prawns; they’re delicious. Everything is so delicious.”
; “Food is my next favourite thing after writing,” Mallory said, popping a prawn into her mouth.
“Can I ask you a few questions for the article about your writing?” Becky asked.
“Fire away,” Mallory replied, helping herself to another bug.
“Great. So, where do you get your ideas from, for a book?”
“Good question,” Mallory said. “Well, I have a note book, I never go anywhere without it, and each day I set myself the task of writing down a memory, a thought, or an observation. Sometimes I get an idea from a dream, or a line from a book I’m reading. Whenever I need a new idea for a story, or a plot in the book I’m writing, I read my notebook, then pick something I like out of it, and see where it leads me.”
Becky nodded, remembering Mallory’s notebook. “The notebook you had in the car.”
“That’s right. I’d be lost without it.”
“And what about you, Polly? How long does it take you to write a book, for example?”
Polly put down her knife and fork, then relaxed back in her chair, contemplating her answer. “I usually spend a few months thinking up storylines, characters, faces, that sort of thing. If it’s going to be a standalone novel or part of a series, I use the same techniques. I have a general idea, but I never really know how a story is going to end. I’m very much a seat-of-my-pants kind of writer. I’m very character-driven. I basically go where my characters lead me, and they’ve never let me down. I’ve never suffered from writer’s block, either. After thinking about the story and the characters for a while, I sit down and write seriously for about three or four months, turning out anything from five hundred to two thousand words a day, then spend at least two months rewriting, editing, rewriting, editing. It can be a vicious circle. I love my beta readers, and their valuable feedback. They really keep me motivated.” Polly sat forward in her chair. “Did you know that Stephen King threw his manuscript for Carrie into the bin? If it wasn’t for Tabitha, his wife, who I guess was like his own personal beta reader, Carrie would never have been completed. She dragged his draft out of the bin and read it. And it was that book, Carrie, which launched King into his very successful writing career. Thirty publishers rejected it first, though, before Carrie eventually got picked up.”
“I didn’t know that,” Becky answered.
“You should read King’s book titled On writing - a memoir of the craft. It’s very good, even if you don’t like his books. This one is a must-read.”
“I hope you’ve left room for dessert,” Elise cut in, walking up to the table and setting down a serving plate piled high with copious amounts of strawberries, kiwi fruit, bananas, blueberries and passion fruit on a thick layer of freshly whipped cream encased in a meringue crust.
“Oh, good Lord,” Becky exclaimed. “I’m getting fat just looking at it.”
“Pavlova is one of my specialities,” Elise said, slicing a knife easily through the crunchy meringue crust.
“What happened to the other bottle of wine?” Mallory asked, finishing her glass of wine and leaning forward and holding up the empty bottle.
“Patience, you. And I only have two hands,” Elise retorted. “I’ll go back and fetch the wine in a moment.”
“Never mind,” Mallory replied, pushing herself out of her chair. “I’ll go get it. I need to walk off some of my dinner anyway.”
“You should come for a jog with me in the morning,” Polly chimed in.
“Not bloody likely,” Mallory replied over her shoulder as she trudged up the gentle slope of the lawn toward the house. “Just as likely to give me a bloody heart attack, and we’d be having a funeral instead of a grand opening.”
Polly shook her head. “That woman is so stubborn. She’d outlive all of us just to have the last word.”
“I heard that,” Mallory called back as she disappeared into the house, the screen door clicking shut behind her.
“See what I mean?” Polly whispered. “She has ears on her like a wise old owl.” She waved her hand at Elise. “I’ll have a piece half that size. I want to make sure I’ll still fit into the new dress I bought for the opening.”
Elise sliced the piece of pavlova in half, and then placed the smaller portion of the two on Polly’s plate. “I don’t know why your worry so much. You’re the only one of us that can still fit into a pair of jeans you wore twenty plus years ago.”
“Half servings and morning jogs,” Polly replied, spooning a mouthful of cream and berries into her mouth.
“Everything in-” Elise began.
“Moderation,” Becky finished absentmindedly, biting down on a shard of crumbling meringue covered in fresh cream. She looked across at Elise then. “That is what my Uncle Steve always says. Everything in moderation.”
Elise raised her eyebrows, tilted her head, and smiled at Becky. “Does he, now?”
Becky closed her eyes and nodded, a rapturous look on her face. “This pavlova is to freaking die for. I think I’d better start running with you in the mornings. Evenings, too.” She opened her eyes and looked across at Polly.
Polly tapped her chin with her spoon. “Chin,” she said.
“Oh,” Becky said, scraping her finger across her chin to remove a blob of cream. “I don’t suppose anyone has a pair of runners I could borrow? I didn’t think to bring any with me.”
“What size are you?” Elise asked.
“Seven and a half.”
“I have a pair that will fit you. They’re brand new, still in the box. I haven’t worn out my old pair yet, but I’m seriously thinking about it. Perhaps I’ll make it my New Year Resolution… Maybe. I’ve always been more of a swimmer; less jarring on the joints.” She scooped another serving of pavlova onto Becky’s plate. Becky considered protesting, then changed her mind. A good jog in the morning would take care of the extra piece.
Polly stood, put her dessert plate down on the table and stretched her hands above her head. “I’m going to take some of these dirty dishes up to the house, and see what’s keeping Mallory.”
“I’ll help you,” Becky said, putting her spoon down, and beginning to rise.
“Nonsense,” Polly replied, waving Becky back down into her seat. “Enjoy the rest of your dessert. Would you like another cup of tea?”
“Yes, please. That would be lovely. Thank you.” Becky sat back down, resting back in her chair, letting her mind wander.
She wondered what the rest of the world was doing on this perfect evening. She let her eyes drift over the blissful surroundings. The sun had completely sunk into the dark, watery horizon an hour ago. Reflections from the silver moon and fairy lights shimmered on the lake’s inky-black surface. A wayward breath of air tousled strands of loose hair across her face, and she pushed them away with her fingertips, without a moment’s thought. Soothing, lapping sounds of the water mingled with the intermittent shrills of night birds and crickets punctuated the serenity of the night, while swarms of bats screeched noisily overhead.
No, Becky thought with a sudden realization. She sat up straighter in her chair and then sank back down. That was a lie, she wasn’t wondering about what the rest of the world was doing at all. If she was going to be completely honest with herself, she was wondering about what Roger and Mandy were doing. Were they locked in each other’s arms professing their undying love for each other? Or ripping their clothes off and screwing themselves stupid? She shuddered, exorcising the thought hastily from her mind before it took shape. Roger and Mandy did not belong here in this beautiful, tranquil place which was blissfully untouched by their betrayal and lies.
“Are you cold, dear?” Elise asked.
Becky shook her head, but pulled her orange scarf more securely around her shoulders just the same. “No. I’m just feeling overwhelmed by the last few days. It’s nothing that the promise of a good night sleep can’t fix.” How many times had she heard Victoria said that, the promise of a good night sleep, she wondered?
Elise’s eyes drifted across the lake. “The woods are lovely
, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep. Robert Frost,” Elise said. “Have you ever read any of his poems?”
The name did sound a little familiar to Becky. “I don’t think so.”
“You should,” Elise said, dreamlike, her eyes not leaving the dark horizon. “He is very good.”
An hour later, her eyelids heavy with sleep deprivation, Becky sat down on the edge of the bed and shook off her sandals. She lifted her scarf over her head and let it drop to the floor. Too tired to change out of her sundress, she pushed herself into the centre of the bed and lay down. Turning onto her side, she wrapped her arms tightly around one of the plump pillows and stared through the open doorway and out across the lake, praying that sleep would come soon.
“The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep…” Where had she heard that passage before, she wondered, closing her eyes and willing herself to sleep.
Chapter 8
The Silly Can’t Hold Us.
BECKY JENSEN’S FACEBOOK STATUS: Beautiful new day in paradise – must be positive! Must stop thinking about cheating ex-boyfriend and best friend having sex.
“Morning, dear. How did you sleep?” Mallory asked, turning on the radio as she watched Becky walk slowly into the kitchen, her hair still damp from the shower. Becky was wearing a white denim mini skirt and a sleeveless plaid shirt tied in a knot at her waist. Mallory looked at Becky’s nice little figure. “I remember the days I used to get away wearing snazzy little outfits like that.”
Becky smiled and sat down on a stool around the kitchen island, then rubbed her face in her hands. “Morning, Mallory. I supposed Polly has already left for her run?” Becky hoped she had. The last thing on her mind right now was a run, regardless of her good intentions over dinner.
“She didn’t want to wake you,” Mallory said, pouring her a cup of tea and pushing it across the bench towards her. “She figured you could use a sleep in.” Mallory studied Becky over the rim of her mug.
About Three Authors Page 10