She’d never done a story like this before. Never written a piece that fell under the ‘human interest’ umbrella. And she’d never had a story so completely wrapped around her heart.
She liked how it felt.
She’d have to head home soon, back to her real job, but she’d do this story in two parts. The disaster and the immediate aftermath now, and then she’d return in a few weeks and capture how Banksia Bay was rebuilding itself. She still had to pitch the story to Maher and it would mean more time off but, surprisingly, she didn’t mind that thought so much.
Virginia sat beside Yvonne’s bed, gently holding her cold hand. The doctors had done all they could – something about a trauma to the head, a coma, waiting. The endless waiting. Over twenty-four hours now and still no change.
‘This isn’t fair,’ she sobbed. ‘You don’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve any of this. I’m so sorry.’ She sucked in great gulps of air. ‘I know I’ve asked so much of you already. Too much. But please don’t leave me now.’
She raised her head and looked up at the ceiling. It had been sixty years since she’d spoken to God. He probably wasn’t listening anymore, but for Yvonne she had to try, and she said a quiet prayer.
‘Hey, squirt.’ Ian entered the hospital room and put his hand on Virginia’s shoulder. ‘How is she?’
‘No change.’ Virginia’s voice waivered.
‘She’s tough.’
‘Tougher than you know.’
Ian walked over to the sink and wet some paper towel.
‘How did you get here?’ Virginia asked.
‘Heath dropped me off.’ He sat in front of her and started wiping the blood from her hands. She’d forgotten all about the dried red blotches covering her palms.
An echo of a memory pushed its way into Virginia’s mind and she stared at him with wide eyes.
‘The two of you have been so strong for so long. Maybe now Laura’s here it’s time to put the past to rest.’
Virginia pushed her chair back and it screeched as it dragged across the vinyl flooring. ‘You know?’
‘The moment she arrived.’
Looking at the blood-stained towel in Ian’s lap, a flash, a moment in the night so long ago, danced before her eyes. Ian next to her in the sand, wiping Richard’s blood from her hands.
‘And you knew. Back then. The truth?’
‘Yes.’
‘All these years? And you’ve never said.’ Her words were barely audible. ‘You could have saved my Costas from . . .’
Ian stood and put his arms round her. ‘But I would have lost you. Unfairly so. No one would have believed it was self-defence, even if I’d said something. You’re family, squirt. And then when Todd . . . well, later it didn’t seem to matter anymore. But maybe now, with Laura here, it’s time to let the burden of truth go.’
‘Oh, Ian.’ Virginia collapsed into his arms and cried into his chest as memories swallowed her.
January 1964
They let Gigi out of the hospital the next day, once she’d gone more than a few hours without any ‘hysterical outbursts’. She’d tried to see Costas again, but they’d moved him to the district hospital to await trial.
The entire town was abuzz with the heroics of Richard, the pathetic fall of Gigi and the evil Costas. The story grew, the rumours rife, The Bugle fuelling the fire against Costas. And there was not a word of truth to any of it.
Gigi had to go and see Lily. The Woodhouses had arrived overnight to take her back home with them, but Gigi had to see her before she left. Maybe if she could get Lily on side, convince her of the truth, they could figure out a way to save Costas.
She knocked on the door of the holiday house.
Mrs Duncan answered, her face drawn and pale. She left Gigi waiting on the verandah.
Lily, dressed in black, walked down the hall towards her, her hand over her bulging belly.
‘What are you doing here?’ Her voice was tight, her eyes red.
‘I needed to see you. To talk to you.’
A strange gurgling sound escaped her lips. ‘Oh, that’s rich. You seduce my husband, then your feral foreign boyfriend kills him.’
‘Lily, you cannot believe I would do that to you. I’d never seduce Richard. Costas didn’t . . .’
‘You do not get to say his name,’ she spat. ‘How can you spout lies to me?’
‘I’m not lying. The truth is . . . The truth . . .’
‘The truth? Out with it, then.’
Gigi stared at her as Lily rubbed her stomach. The truth – so simple, so painful. How could she tell her? Even just a small part of it? No. To tell her the truth would be to tell her that her beloved husband, the father of her unborn baby, had tried to rape her best friend.
She lowered her eyes.
To save Costas, she would have to destroy Lily, her memories, her soul.
‘That’s what I thought.’ Lily broke the silence. ‘Richard told me, you know. About how you tried to kiss him when you went fishing together. Is that why you rejected Todd? Richard said it was nothing to worry about. Just a silly little crush. He was wrong, though, wasn’t he? Well, now you have taken everything away from me. I hope you’re happy.’
She turned to go back into the house.
‘Wait.’ Gigi reached out. ‘Wait. I brought this. For the baby. You should take it with you.’ She handed Lily the guardian angel pendant, wrapped in a crisp white handkerchief.
Lily opened it, her eyes flaring. She threw the pendant onto the floor with such force that it broke in two, one half spinning across the verandah, the other half ricocheting into the house.
‘You were wearing that. The night you seduced my husband. The night he was killed because of you.’ She spat out her words. ‘Get out of here, you evil little wench. I never want to see you again.’
Mrs Duncan appeared and wrapped Lily in her arms. ‘You need to leave.’ She shut the door in Gigi’s face and Gigi ran as fast as she could away from there.
Sitting in her special spot among the banksias above the town, one hand on the rock hidden beneath the grass, Gigi let her tears flow.
She’d lost Costas and Lily. She’d lost hope. She might as well have been in gaol. What kind of life could she have now?
‘Damn you, Richard,’ she cursed out loud.
She drew her legs to her chest and sobbed into her knees.
A cough from behind roused her from her melancholy. She turned around. Yvonne was standing there, a piece of paper in her hands. She held it out and Gigi took it. The writing was scribbled, the paper scrap.
‘My dearest Virginia. I write this in haste and no words will be adequate. But I could not leave without saying goodbye. I will not go to gaol. There I will surely die. I will run. Hide. Know this, always. I love you. You accepted me when no one else would. You are the light in my life. I would die a thousand deaths if it meant protecting you. I would do it all again. Stay safe. Live your life, for both of us. C.’
Gigi stared up at Yvonne. ‘He gave you this? When?’
No answer.
‘I have to go to him.’ Gigi stepped past her, but Yvonne grabbed Gigi’s arm.
‘He’s already gone?’
She nodded.
‘Yvonne, please. Talk to me. Tell me something, anything.’
Yvonne pressed her lips together.
A memory, a snippet, flashed into Gigi’s mind – a figure hidden in the dunes. ‘You were there, weren’t you? That night . . . You saw everything?’
Tears fell down her cheeks.
‘Oh, God. Yvonne . . .’ Gigi backed up, bile rising in her throat. She turned, doubled over and vomited. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.’ She sobbed into the earth and Yvonne put her arm around her.
‘You know the truth? But you haven’t said anything?’
Yvonne pointed to the note. ‘He made me promise.’
‘He asked you to keep this secret? Yvonne, no. It’s too much. You cannot keep my lie for me.’
Yvonne tou
ched Gigi on the cheek and together they walked back to town in silence.
Every day for the rest of summer Gigi visited with Yvonne. Every day Yvonne refused to speak – to her, to her family.
Yvonne’s parents pieced together that she must have seen something that night. For her to regress so completely into silence, it must have been horrific. They called a doctor, but he said it wasn’t uncommon for someone to withdraw after a trauma.
Gigi took Yvonne fishing every Sunday. No words. She asked Ian to teach Yvonne to surf, hoping that it would break the silence. No words, but a lightness to her eyes, which was at least something.
So many lives ruined by one single moment.
Guilt hung heavily around Gigi’s heart.
When summer ended she stayed at the caravan park and worked, taking as much of the load from her mother as she could.
She put off cleaning the holiday house for weeks, easy to do with no one else booked in till April. But eventually she returned, memories of the last time she’d seen Lily there assaulting her mind.
She washed the floors and dusted the surfaces. She made the beds and scrubbed the bathroom. When she was done she pulled the door closed behind her. The midday sun beat down on the verandah and a sparkle beneath the deck caught her eye. On her hands and knees she got down to take a closer look.
It was the guardian angel – half of it, at least. She couldn’t reach it from there, so she climbed under the deck.
The wing was covered with dirt and Gigi wiped it clean. She hadn’t seen the other half when she was cleaning. Was it down here too?
After an hour digging in the earth, Gigi finally gave up and trudged home, the broken pendant in her pocket.
She passed the Tinellises’ house, boarded up and defaced with red paint that had dried in dripping slashes across its front.
So many lives ruined by one single moment.
Once Costas became a fugitive, the hostility in town had been too much for them. Mrs Beaumont told Gigi they’d moved to their cousin’s. ‘Sad,’ she’d said.
Sad. Such an inadequate word.
Gigi trudged down to the jetty and hung her legs over the edge as she sat, ghostly echoes of joy and water splashing haunting the quiet afternoon air. Footsteps behind her, a shadow.
‘Hey, squirt.’ Ian lowered himself down beside her. ‘Are you okay?’
There were no words to describe how she felt.
‘Do you want to talk about what happened?’
Her shoulders dropped. Talking was the last thing she felt like doing.
‘Well, if you ever need me, I’m here for you. Whenever you’re ready.’ He hugged her, for just a few moments, before leaving her there with her thoughts.
Lying in her bunk that night, Gigi stared at her keepsakes, the broken pendant now sitting next to the photo of her and Lily on the beach. The next morning she wrote to Lily, a simple letter asking how she was. She sent it off in a blue envelope, the nicest one her mother had tucked away in the kitchen drawer. Every week for a year Gigi sent Lily a letter. Each one went unanswered.
Just before Christmas she sent a postcard, the simple words ‘Forgive me’, written on the back in her best handwriting.
There was no response.
After the storm the entire town fell into a routine that saw the most phenomenal amount of work get done. After three days the beach was completely clear, and the roads showed no sign of there having been a storm at all. The bakery was fixed. The windows in the post office too. There were still many homes and buildings that needed repair, and makeshift solutions – tarps, and sheets of plastic, and generators borrowed from farms for public buildings that still had no electricity – were in place all over town.
But the scars were slowly healing.
At the end of each long day, Heath walked Laura back to the holiday house. Tonight they sat on the verandah, legs entwined on the bench seat, looking up at the night sky. It was the clearest, cleanest night since the storm, and a thousand diamonds blinked above.
‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sky quite like this before,’ Laura whispered.
‘It’s not the same view you get in the city, that’s for sure.’ Heath’s fingers traced shapes across her thigh. ‘I’m sorry you have to leave soon.’
‘Me too. But I have to return or Maher will have my job. I will come back, though. I spoke with him this afternoon.’
‘Really? What did he say?’
Laura stood up and leaned with her back against the balustrade. ‘He likes it. He’s not thrilled about me going off brand, but I think he knows I need to do this. You know, reset myself, so to speak.’
‘He sounds like a wise man.’ Heath got up and held his hand out. Laura took it and they went back inside.
‘Before I forget.’ Laura reached behind the sideboard where she’d put Heath’s plans for the cheese factory. ‘You dropped these on the day of the storm. I’ve been meaning to give it back, but, well, it’s been a bit hectic.’
Heath took the papers, his hand brushing hers. ‘Thank you. I went up there today. Not much left of the old building now. With everything else going on at the moment, maybe I should put this on the back burner.’ He rolled the plans up.
Laura put her hands on her hips.
‘Heath Gilbert, if you even think for a second of delaying this dream of yours, there’ll be hell to pay.’ She took the papers out of his hands and grabbed his shoulders. ‘This is exactly what everyone needs right now, and your dream is brilliant. That day you took me up there and shared your vision with me, I was blown away. I could see it, feel it. Please. You have to follow it through.’
Heath kissed her, long, hard. When he pulled back for air he brushed her cheek with his finger. ‘This is why I love you.’
He kissed her again before she could respond and carried her into the bedroom. Slowly he undressed her, caressing her bare skin. He kissed her shoulders, her neck, her breasts. She groaned as he lifted her onto the bed, want flowing through her.
In the middle of the night Laura lay awake, naked in Heath’s arms, staring out the window at the liquid night sky. Never before had she felt so content. Never before had she known such happiness.
Never before had she been so scared.
She nuzzled into Heath’s shoulder and he rolled slightly, his other arm wrapping around her.
‘I love you too,’ she said, her voice soft, muffled.
As the moon shone through the hospital window, Virginia changed the water in the four vases of flowers that cluttered the small bedside table.
‘Are they for me?’
Virginia spun round towards the croaky voice behind her. ‘Yvonne?’ She rushed to her side, tears streaming down her cheeks.
‘What’s going on?’ Yvonne tried to sit up, but slumped back down again.
Virginia called for a doctor.
‘You’re a lucky woman,’ the doctor declared after he’d given her a thorough check. The specialist would be by in the morning and she had a long road of physical therapy ahead of her, but she’d be all right.
After Virginia saw the doctor out, she sat beside her old friend and told her everything that had happened since the storm.
‘Ian knew all along?’ Yvonne drew in a sharp breath. ‘So what are you going to do? About Laura?’
‘I don’t know. I have to protect you, and Ian.’
With a weak wave of her hand, Yvonne hushed her. ‘You don’t need to protect us. You never did. Why do you think we’ve kept quiet all this time?’
Virginia shrugged.
‘You silly old girl. To protect you. This isn’t about us. What did Ian say?’
‘It was time to unburden myself.’ Virginia ran her fingers through her short grey hair.
‘Set the truth free. Set Gigi free.’ Yvonne looked Virginia in the eye. ‘I always said Ian was wise.’
When the sun rose, Virginia returned to Banksia Bay to share the good news about Yvonne. Down at the shack she found her friends, and many people were a
t the beach, taking a welcome break from the clean-up.
The late autumn morning was crisp and fresh, hinting at the cold weather just around the corner, while allowing the memory of warm blue summer skies to linger just a little longer.
Surfers gathered near the jetty, Ian, Ryan and Heath among them. Aiden had his board ready too. Virginia set up the deck with jugs of cold water and small cakes. Trish and Charlotte sat on the jetty, their legs dangling over the edge, their faces lifted to the sun.
Laura waxed her board, the one Heath had given her, readying herself to go in.
Virginia had heard about Laura’s efforts the past few days. The girl had certainly pulled her weight. It would have been easy for her to simply pack up and go after the storm, but she’d hung around. And not only that, she’d pitched in and helped as much as anyone else.
Even her story was something Virginia could get on board with. Long after the clean-up was done, the effects of the storm would still be felt. If Laura’s story could bring business to their community, then it was worth it.
She watched her now with Heath as they headed into the water. There was genuine affection there, she had no doubt. There was also no doubt how happy Heath was lately. That Laura was the cause of that happiness was enough for her.
Was Yvonne right? Ian? Was it time to let the past go?
Too long she’d borne the weight of guilt.
Too long she’d gone unpunished.
The cool water rushed over Laura as she dived beneath the waves. Emerging into the warm autumn sun shine, she lifted her face towards the sky.
Ryan and Aiden caught the first wave, and Aiden waved at Heath, who was sitting beyond the break.
Filled with confidence, or adrenaline, or perhaps madness, Laura set herself up to catch the next wave. She watched the swell, she picked her ride, she paddled and popped. Up she stood, balancing on her board, cutting through the wave.
The Banksia Bay Beach Shack Page 29