Honey Hill House

by Lisa Ireland

  ‘You’ve changed your tune.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘When I first came here you thought the B&B was a ridiculous idea that would never work.’

  ‘I never said that.’

  ‘Maybe not, but that’s what you thought. It was written all over your face.’

  Here he was thinking he’d been discreet about his misgivings, but she clearly had his measure. God, what else she did know about him? Did she realise how much he’d come to care about her? That he wanted her to stay because he couldn’t bear for her to leave? He shrugged and gave her a grin. ‘Let’s just say you convinced me.’

  She smiled back at him.

  ‘So you’ll take the money then?’ he asked. ‘If not for me, for the good of the town?’

  She shook her head slowly. ‘I can’t take your money, Mitch, not as an investment, not even as a loan. I appreciate you wanting to help, really I do. But this is my problem and I need to sort it out by myself.’

  Chapter 8

  Mitch looked at Bea in dismay. ‘Why? Why won’t you let me help you? Investing in Honey Hill House is a perfectly reasonable solution. We can have a legal contract drawn up if you like. I’m not offering you charity if that’s what’s bothering you.’

  ‘It’s not about charity. It’s about control. I need to be in control of my own life, Mitch.’ Bea was surprised at her own words. They were true, of course. Her whole life she’d been controlled by others and the move to Dulili was supposed to change all that. But she’d never said these words out loud to anyone, not even Emma.

  Mitch looked confused. ‘I don’t want to control you, Bea. I just want to help.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, but that’s how it starts.’

  ‘That’s a bit cynical isn’t it?’

  Bea shrugged. ‘Just speaking from experience.’

  He said nothing. She wasn’t surprised. How was he to know what she’d been through? Mitch was a great guy. He was sweet and generous and he probably couldn’t imagine hurting those he loved. But Jason had been a great guy too, at least in the beginning. She didn’t owe Mitch an explanation but she found herself wanting to give him one. Or maybe it wasn’t so much that she wanted to explain herself, more that she just wanted to talk about what had happened over the past two years. She had kept it bottled up for so long, it would be good to let it all out. And now that she wasn’t going to be living in Dulili for much longer, unburdening herself to Mitch held no risk. She looked at the old railway clock that hung above the kitchen door. It was four-thirty. They’d been sitting here for an hour already. Mitch probably had things to do. She didn’t want to be a burden to him, but she didn’t want to be alone right now either. ‘Fancy staying for dinner?’ she asked.

  He grinned. ‘What are you cooking?’ Then his smile disappeared and concern creased his brow. ‘Maybe I should do the cooking and let you relax for a bit?’

  She shook her head. ‘Nah. I’d rather do something. You know, keep myself busy. How about gnocchi?’

  ‘Sounds good to me. You know I’ve never eaten gnocchi before.’

  ‘Really? Oh my goodness. You’re in for a treat. Just you wait until you try my gnocchi. My Zia’s special recipe. She taught me to make it when I was living with her in Italy.’

  ‘Sounds great. I reckon I might have a nice bottle of Merlot up at my place. Do you think a smooth red would go down okay with your gnocchi?’

  ‘Absolutely, in fact any sort of wine would go down pretty well right about now.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll head back to my place, change out of these grubby work clothes and grab a bottle or two. Rosie and I will walk back so we don’t have worry about driving under the influence. Will you be okay here by yourself for bit?’

  Obviously he’d seen her invitation for what it was, a desperate ploy not to spend the next few hours alone. She put on the cheeriest face she could muster. ‘Absolutely. Take your time.’

  ‘Righto. We’ll get going then. Back soon. Rosie, let’s go.’

  As she heard the ute pull away, Bea got to work. She pulled out some potatoes, rinsed them off and popped them in a big saucepan. Once the potatoes were boiling she scoured the pantry for Zia’s tomato sauce ingredients. It was a simple recipe really, the secret was adding a couple of grated carrots for sweetness and a drop of balsamic vinegar for tang.

  It was Zia Lucia’s recipe, but cooking gnocchi always reminded her of spending time in the kitchen with her mother. She remembered her mum’s patience as she taught her the trick of rolling gnocchi along a fork to shape it. Zia used a purpose-made board, which was easier and less time consuming, but Bea preferred her mum’s method.

  While the potatoes boiled she mulled over her current situation. There was no one in the family she could ask for money. Dad was retired now, and couldn’t afford to be throwing money her way. Joe would find the money if she asked him, she knew that, but who knew when she would be able to afford to pay him back? Now the new baby was here he had lots of expenses and she knew he and Nat were saving to give their kids a private school education. Joe wanted his kids to have the best possible start, and hoped that they would follow in their Uncle Luca’s footsteps by gaining a university education. She didn’t want to stand in the way of that. There really was no other solution than to pay the bulk of her debt to the tax office as soon as possible and head back to Geelong to live with Dad until she could find herself a job.

  She allowed herself a sigh of self-pity. Jobs were not exactly easy to find right now, especially in Geelong. With the Ford factory winding up, and a few other big businesses letting people go, the local economy wasn’t exactly flush. She figured there wouldn’t be much call for a travel agent and that was the only training she had. Even as a youngster her part-time job had been at the local travel agency. She’d become full time once her schooling was done and eventually opened her own tiny business. She’d never worked in any other industry. Sadly, she couldn’t imagine there would be too many opportunities opening up for agents right now in her hometown. Those locals who could afford to travel were probably booking online anyway. But it couldn’t be helped. She’d just have to be creative, look outside the travel industry for something else. At this stage she couldn’t afford to be choosy. She’d take any job she could get. She was smart. Her skills were transferable, weren’t they? And she was a hard worker. Surely someone would give her a chance?

  She fought down her rising panic with the mantra she’d adopted to get through the rough months after her surgery. What doesn’t kill me will only make me stronger. Strangely, there was comfort in that.

  The thud of Mitch’s boots on the back verandah put an end to her worrying and brought her back to the boiling potatoes. ‘Hey you. Come in here and wash your hands. I’m going to teach you to make gnocchi.’

  Mitch plonked two bottles of red on the table while Rosie shot through his legs and into the living room to take up her favourite place in front of the fire. ‘Make it? I thought I was only required to eat it?’

  Bea’s stomach flipped. He was wearing the green shirt and jeans she’d picked out for him on their shopping trip. She quickly turned and focused her attention on looking for a colander to drain the potatoes in. ‘No free rides I’m afraid.’

  He laughed. ‘All right then. If I must. I’ll just go wash my hands and I’ll be at your service.’

  Bea tried her best to think unsexy thoughts. She went over the steps to making perfect fluffy gnocchi, but that led her mind wander to guiding Mitch’s hands as she showed him how to roll the balls along the fork. No. Next she tried thinking about how she was going to tell her Dad she’d failed at her big attempt at going it alone, but that caused her eyes to prick with tears. She’d shed her fill of tears for one day. In the end she resorted to reciting flight numbers in her head and matching them with their routes. QF9 Melbourne to LAX, QF10 Melbourne to London, and so on until Mitch’s appearance undid all her good work.

  ‘Where do we start?’

  His
voice started the butterflies swirling in her stomach again. This was not good. She tossed him a hot potato and laughed as he juggled it.

  ‘Ow! Bloody hell, Bea.’

  ‘We need to get the skin off.’

  ‘You didn’t think to peel them before you cooked them?’

  ‘Ah, that’s one of the tricks to fluffy gnocchi. The skins stop the potato from getting too soggy. If they absorb too much water your gnocchi will be gummy instead of fluffy.’

  ‘I see. We can’t have that, then. But can’t we wait for them to cool down a bit?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. It’s best to work while the potato is still warm, so stop sooking and start peeling.’

  ‘Righto, boss. But can I put this down long enough to crack open one of those bottles? I have a feeling this is going to be thirsty work.’

  She nodded. ‘I’ll get the glasses.’

  For the next half-hour they worked side by side. Mitch seemed impressed with the potato ricer and took over that job while Bea got started on Zia’s sweet tomato sauce. Once that was done, Bea showed Mitch how to turn the potato into a soft dough and then together they rolled out the long sausages that would soon become perfect little balls of gnocchi. Mitch was a quick learner and soon he was rolling the balls along a fork like an old hand.

  Bea realised how much she missed having someone to cook for. Sharing a meal at the end of the day was one of the best parts of being married. She’d always spent a lot of time preparing the evening meal, infusing each dish with her love for her husband. In the early days their meals together were happy times, with Jason sharing his hopes and dreams over the dinner table. Back then she’d felt like the luckiest girl in the world. Of course it hadn’t always been like that. Towards the end of their marriage she’d often eaten alone. Jason ‘worked late’ many nights a week and sometimes didn’t come home at all. But even when times were good, they’d never shared the food preparation the way she and Mitch were doing right now. Back in her old life the kitchen was solely her domain. She hadn’t minded that. She was proud of her culinary skills and happy to impress her husband with a beautifully presented meal each night.

  Maybe if there’d been more of this—more camaraderie, more playfulness, more shared activities—things might not have ended the way they did. Who knew? She found herself wondering how different her life might have been if she hadn’t rushed into marriage when she was barely out of her teens. Would things have been different if she’d allowed herself to grow up a bit, find out who she was on her own instead of sliding into the role of Mrs Jason Sinclair? Maybe if she hadn’t been in such a hurry to escape the role created for her by her family she wouldn’t have run headlong in a marriage doomed to fail. Maybe she would have fallen in love with someone who was strong enough to accept her for who she really was.

  Someone like Mitch.

  She realised she was staring at Mitch’s hands as he worked the gnocchi dough, and wondering what they would feel like moving over her bare skin. Absentmindedly, she crossed one arm across her chest and tucked her hand under her arm. She couldn’t feel the raised skin of her scar beneath her jumper but it was there nevertheless, part of her forever. Who was she kidding thinking about Mitch in that way? What man would want to caress her scarred body? She shook her head and put her glass down. Clearly the wine was clouding her thinking.

  ‘Hey, are you okay?’ Mitch asked.

  ‘I think I need to give the wine a rest if I’m going to do this meal justice. I gulped the first one down too quickly and it’s gone straight to my head.’

  He laughed. ‘Maybe that’s just what you need tonight.’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. Not unless you want to be eating toast for dinner.’

  ‘Fair enough. We’ll save the wine for later. How are these for size?’ He held up a little ball for her inspection.

  ‘Perfect.’ The gnocchi was perfect and so was he.

  Once the gnocchi was done and all plated up Mitch poured another two glasses of red and they sat together at the kitchen table. Mitch loaded up his fork and took a bite and then let out a groan of appreciation. ‘God, Bea, this stuff is amazing. I can’t believe I’ve never eaten it before.’

  ‘I’ve spoiled you now. Gnocchi isn’t always this good. Don’t be tricked into buying the pre-packaged stuff from the supermarket. It’s awful.’

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind, although I don’t think the general store stocks gnocchi.’

  ‘You’re probably right. I must be thinking about the supermarket near where I lived before. There you can buy it pre-made from the dairy case, but it’s nothing like homemade.’

  ‘I guess you can get all manner of things in the city that we don’t get here. But just like your pre-packaged gnocchi, most of them aren’t worth having in my opinion.’

  The thought of giving up Dulili for 24-hour supermarkets and never-ending streams of traffic filled Bea with dread. Geelong may not be quite the metropolis Melbourne was, but compared to Dulili it was massive. In the short time that she’d been here she’d grown to appreciate all this little town had to offer. The stillness, the clear skies and sweet, clean air, the gentle rhythm of each day—life unfettered by traffic or queues. Most of all she’d come to appreciate the locals. One local in particular.

  This was so goddamned unfair. Yes, she might have been foolish to trust Jason implicitly, but hadn’t she already paid for that? She’d lost her marriage, her home in Williamstown and the comfortable life she’d built for herself. Through all of the losses she’d stayed resilient. Refusing to give in to bitterness, believing that there were good things waiting for her just around the corner and that somehow she’d find a way to rebuild her life. But this was one blow too many. She tried to blink back the tears welling in her eyes but as hard as she fought she was unable to stop them.

  ‘Oh Bea, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. That was insensitive of me. I’m sure the city has many delights to offer too.’

  She sniffed and shrugged. ‘I don’t want to leave here, but I can’t see any other choice.’

  ‘I think you’re wrong about that.’

  ‘I’ve told you already, I can’t take your money, Mitch.’ Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the fact that soon she’d be leaving this place that made her decide that now was a good time to tell him the whole story. Well, maybe not all of it, but she at least wanted to explain why she was so hung up on not accepting any financial help. ‘Are you done?’

  He nodded and stood to start clearing the table.

  ‘Just leave that. Let’s take our wine and go sit by the fire. I have a few things I want to explain.’ Her chair made a scraping sound as she pushed it in. She’d been debating what type of flooring to put in the kitchen when it was done. Initially she favoured timber but she was concerned that with the high volume of people visiting her kitchen the boards would wear prematurely. No need to worry about that now.

  ‘You don’t owe me any explanations, Bea. If you don’t want my help that’s cool. I’m just sad that Dulili is going to lose you when it doesn’t have to be that way.’

  ‘Come on in here and I’ll explain to you why it does have to be that way, as much as I wish it were otherwise.’

  Mitch followed her into the living room, stopping to tend to the fire before settling himself down on the couch beside her. Rosie stood up, stretched and yawned and decided the gap between them on the couch was the spot for her.

  ‘Oi, you, I don’t think Bea wants you climbing all over her and her furniture,’ Mitch said.

  Bea scratched Rosie’s ear. ‘Don’t you listen to him. You know you’re welcome here, don’t you girl?’

  ‘You spoil her. She’s not allowed on the furniture at my place.’

  Bea shrugged. ‘I think Rosie was my first real friend in Dulili. Whatever she does is fine by me.’

  ‘I’m your friend, too, Bea. I hope you know that.’ He reached over and laid his hand on her forearm.

  Bea’s heart hammered
at his touch. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that she would soon have to leave this town. Somewhere along the line her feelings for Mitch had ceased to be platonic. Her poor heart had only just begun to recover from its last assault. She couldn’t risk it being broken again.

  Rosie pushed her nose under Mitch’s hand, resting her chin on the spot where it had been. They both laughed, and for the moment the tension was broken.

  ‘Mitch, I know you want me to stay, and I know that if I go I’ll be letting your mum and the whole town down. I don’t want to leave, believe me. But without the means to support myself staying here is impossible.’

  ‘Let me help, then.’

  She shook her head. ‘If it was just a matter of a couple of thousand dollars, I would swallow my pride and accept a loan, but it’s a lot more than that. It would take me years to pay it back, which would make me beholden to you and I really can’t have that.’ She felt the heat of her cheeks colouring. ‘It was reliance on a man that got me into this mess.’

  ‘I don’t know anything about your ex-husband, but I do know that I would never leave you in a situation like the one you’re in now. No decent man would. And like I said earlier, if I loaned you money or invested in the B&B we’d draw up an agreement so it was all official. You’d know exactly what the terms were.’

  ‘I know your intentions are nothing but decent, Mitch, and I really appreciate that you care enough to want to help, but I can’t accept your money. Let me tell you a little a bit about my marriage to Jason and then you might understand why.’

  Chapter 9

  Bea picked up her glass from the coffee table and took a big swig. She wasn’t sure why she felt this desire to unburden herself to Mitch. Maybe it was as simple as missing Em. Without her best friend on tap she didn’t have anyone to mull over the whys and wherefores of her relationship with Jason. Nobody except Em knew the full story. She’d hoped moving to Dulili would open a new chapter in her life and therefore rid her of the need to analyse the past, but this latest development had put her history with Jason front and centre once again. She put the glass down and turned to Mitch. ‘You’ve probably figured out by now that I was pretty young when Jason and I got married.’