“See ya, Grandma,” said Rumer, pointedly.
Grandma Vinegar was still pondering the possibility of a thunderstorm as she sat in the front passenger seat and Mr Chilvers shut her door.
Rumer and I stood in the driveway, waiting for the car to pull out.
“I think she’s losing it,” said Rumer, giving a little wave.
The front passenger door window rolled down as the engine purred into life.
“Lock the doors,” said Grandma. She looked me straight in the eye. “Be careful.”
The last thing I saw as the car drove away was Grandma adjusting a colourful paisley shawl about her shoulders.
Rumer went straight to the TV room, but I had other plans. I was certain that Mrs Skelton would have left her set of keys hanging from one of the key hooks in the kitchen, but when I checked they weren’t there.
“Old bag,” I said, kicking the cupboard door.
Mrs Skelton had obviously taken the keys with her.
Still, there were other ways to get into a locked room. There were plenty of tools in the stables. There was bound to be something there that could open the attic door and the locked trunk.
I’d show her.
Chapter 23
Sometimes I think I’m a masochist. I’m always the one to partner Dad at cards, even though he’s never happy with the cards I play. I’m always the one who washes the dog, even though I know I’ll be wearing dog shampoo by the end of it all. And I’m always the one who goes looking for Rumer, even though I know she’s just going to be rude and obnoxious to me.
Before I left for the stables to look for boltcutters, I checked in with Rumer in the TV room. She was watching some loud morning show, her feet propped up on the coffee table in front of her. Grandma Vinegar would have had a fit. I was surprised Luke wasn’t at her side already.
“I’m just going out for a walk,” I said, standing in the doorway.
“Suit yourself,” said Rumer, barely taking her eyes from the screen. She waved her mobile phone about wildly for a second and said flatly, “No signal! Typical.”
There was a weird moment when I wanted to confess about the notes, and I might have, except Rumer said sharply, “I can’t wait to get out of here. This place is a hole. The only good thing about this holiday has been getting my homework done.”
It seemed Rumer wasn’t going to own up to what she and Luke had been up to.
“It’s not that bad,” I said.
“I guess it depends on what you’re used to,” Rumer said with a yawn. “I don’t suppose it’s much different from Homsea.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You know. Small town. Nothing much to do. You’d be used to it.” She flicked to another channel with the remote control.
I was sick of Rumer and her put-down ways.
“Although I heard you’d stirred things up a bit before the holidays,” Rumer said with a lazy smile. “Kissing someone else’s boyfriend? Didn’t think you had it in you, cuz.”
I was sick of her taking things that weren’t hers to take.
“Dad said that he might get back early from the conference, depends if he can get a flight,” said Rumer.
“I told him he owed me big time. I wish the twins were here. They’re always fun.”
She flicked to another channel.
“At least the old bat’s gone. She was seriously driving me crazy.”
Flick.
“And that gardener gives me the creeps. What’s his problem? I asked him to do something for me the other day and he said Grandma paid him, not me. And then he said she barely paid him enough as it was, without him having to do extra work. I think I might tell Grandma when they get back. Serves him right if she fires him on the spot.”
I was sick of the world where there were two sets of rules – one rule for Rumer and another for everyone else.
“Are you coming in or what?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Well, shut the door, will you? I’m trying to keep warm here,” she said.
“You shut it,” I said.
And I left her with her mouth wide open …
But of course, that’s not what really happened.
“Are you coming in or what?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Well, shut the door, will you? I’m trying to keep warm here,” she said.
So I shut the door quietly behind me.
There was nothing in the stables that looked like it might open an attic door or a locked chest. If Mr Chilvers had a toolbox, it wasn’t there. I thought about asking Luke, but I couldn’t face him.
When I checked my mobile, the no signal sign flashed at me. I suddenly wanted to be home. I wanted to be walking down the main street of Homsea where everyone knew me and at least half of them would stop and say hello if I looked like I needed company.
I wanted to sit in Miss Maudy’s Quilt Barn and hear her talk about the amazing travels she’d had when she was younger.
I wanted to wave to Rudy Heinrich pointing his radar gun out of his parked police car, or drop a flower off at the war memorial, or check out the latest specials on Porky Sudholz’s blackboard.
But most of all I wanted to be sitting at the end of the jetty, feet dangling over the side, waiting for some sucker squid to take the bait as I shot the breeze with the Luke Hart that I used to know.
But that was never going to happen again.
So I guess I was small town. And though Rumer meant it as a put-down, I kind of liked the idea.
As I walked back to the house I noticed the clouds were slowly blocking out the blue of the sky. The breeze from the bluff had lifted and it whistled around my ears. There was no way I could go back to the TV room. I thought I might study in the library for a while.
I tried not to think about the love notes hidden away in my dresser drawer. By the time I set myself up in the library it was already eleven o’clock. I decided to make myself a hot drink before I settled into it. When I returned to the desk, a fire was crackling into life in the fireplace. Luke had obviously been and gone.
I was happy I missed him.
I hoped he would come back.
After half an hour of history, I snapped my textbook shut in disgust. I couldn’t concentrate. Outside, the wind had picked up, snapping the trees back and forth like floggers at a football match. I looked around at the family portraits on the walls. I put another log of wood on the fire, then pulled out the family photo albums and flicked through them. By the third album it dawned on me what I was doing. I was looking for photos of Rumer’s mother. A happy family snap of Rumer and her mum and dad. A tender mother and child moment caught for the camera. But there was nothing. The only photos of Rumer as an infant were either by herself, or with her dad, cousins or Grandma Vinegar. I hurried through the rest of the albums, then started again, but there was nothing. All the albums I’d looked at only started with the birth of the first grandchild, Julia. There must have been older albums around.
I scoured the library shelves again. On the second look through, I spotted something slightly hidden between two medical dictionaries. If I’d been doing my dusting properly, I would have found it days before. It was a cracked leather-bound album, and as I pulled it out a photo of Rumer slid to the floor. She was wearing a striped top that I had never seen on her before, and the colour of the photo was faded. Then I realised that I wasn’t looking at Rumer at all. This was an old photo. It had to be Rumer’s mother. I wondered why she’d been hidden away.
“What have you got there?” Rumer was standing at the door.
I shoved the photo back into the album.
“Just the old photos,” I said.
The phone in the hallway jangled loudly. Rumer shrugged and answered it, while I slipped out the photo and stuck it in my pocket.
I heard her speak a few words. By the time I reached the hallway, she’d hung up.
“Who was that?” I asked.
“Wrong num
ber,” she said, not looking at me. “Did they leave us lunch or what?”
And she went to the kitchen without waiting for an answer.
The phone rang again, and I picked it up quickly.
“Hello? Hello? This line isn’t working, Livinia. There’s no one there.” It was Grandma.
“Hello, Grandma,” I said loudly into the phone.
“Ah, Freya? Is that you, Freya?”
“Yes, Grandma.”
“Good. Now listen to me, we have reached Port Eden. Is everything all right there?”
“Yes, Grandma.”
“Good. Now Mr Chilvers has some business in town, but he will be home late this afternoon.”
She had already told us that.
“Okay,” I said.
“Is everything all right there?” she asked.
“Everything’s fine, Grandma.”
“All right.”
I could hear heavy breathing from her end of the phone.
“You will ring my contact number if you need anything, Freya?” she said, eventually.
“We’re fine, Grandma,” I said.
“Yes, yes, Livinia,” she said away from the phone. “I have to go now, Freya, this is costing me a fortune.”
Then Grandma Vinegar hung up before I had a chance to say goodbye.
Rumer emerged from the kitchen with a large sandwich.
“I didn’t make you anything,” she said with her mouth half-filled with food. “I didn’t know what you wanted.”
As she sauntered off to the TV room, I felt the edge of the photo poking out from my pocket.
And I left it there.
Chapter 24
I took the old photo album upstairs to my bedroom and spent the next few hours looking through it. I’d always thought of Rumer’s dad as a Kramer family member because he looked so much like the rest of us – brown hair, solid build. But of course, Rumer’s surname was Grey. Rumer Grey. Which meant that it was her mother who had belonged to the Kramer family tree. That’s why there were so many photos of her mother’s younger years in the old family album. But that still didn’t solve the mystery of why there were no photos of Rumer with her mother. And why the family never talked about Rumer’s mother. I pulled the photo from my pocket and studied the inscription on the back.
Bec, Form 5.
Even with the faded colours, the resemblance to Rumer was uncanny. I wondered how my aunty had died.
There was still no phone reception so I couldn’t text Isabella. As I wandered downstairs for a late lunch I realised I hadn’t given Luke his midday meal. I shoved some wood into the wood stove, then pulled the plated up meal from the warmer where Mrs Skelton had placed it many hours before.
“Is that mine?”
Luke stood at the door knocking the soil from his shoes.
“Sorry. Yes. I forgot. Come in.” I placed the plate on the kitchen table, grabbed some cutlery and a glass. “Do you want a drink?” I asked.
“Just water will do,” he said, washing his hands in the sink.
“You can eat in the dining room if you like,” I offered.
“I usually eat at the cottage,” Luke explained. “Here’s okay.”
He sat down to eat when the phone rang. I heard Rumer pick up, then moments later she came into the kitchen.
“Oh, hello,” she said to Luke, coolly. “How’s work going?”
“Enough of it,” he said. “How’s everything going?”
Luke seemed to be putting a lot of emphasis on the word “everything” and I wanted to say “I know what you are talking about”, but of course I didn’t.
“Everything is fine,” said Rumer.
“Who was on the phone?” I asked.
“Nobody,” said Rumer. “At least, nobody who wanted to talk. I thought I heard breathing, but they hung up.”
A gust of wind rattled the kitchen window.
“Do you think it was Grandma?” I asked.
Rumer shrugged. She opened the fridge door, wrinkled her nose, then closed it again. “I’m going out for a walk,” she said. “Down to the beach.”
There was a message there for someone to follow her, and I knew it wasn’t me.
“Okay,” I said.
“I’ll be back in time for dinner,” she said.
“Dinner?” I asked.
“I should be starving by then.”
I felt Luke’s eyes on me.
“And I’ve got a load of washing on,” she continued, “so can you just chuck those clothes in the dryer when they’re ready? But not my blue top. That can just go in the drying room.”
She was nearly out the door before I managed to say something that had taken me a lifetime to say.
“No.”
“See ya, Luke,” she said, as if she hadn’t heard me.
“I said no!”
Rumer turned around and looked at me, one hand on her hip.
“Okay, well, just leave the blue top out and–”
I shook my head.
“Oh, Freya. What is your problem?”
“I know what’s going on,” I said.
Her hand left her hip. “What …”
Luke scraped his chair back.
“Stay!” I said.
“You’re mad,” said Rumer as she turned towards the door.
“I know about the notes,” I said.
She stopped but didn’t face me.
“I know what’s going on so we can all stop pretending,” I said. “And no, Rumer. I am not making dinner. I am not doing your laundry. And I’m not putting up with you any longer …”
Of course, that’s not quite what happened.
“I’m going out for a walk,” Rumer said. “Down to the beach.”
There was a message there for someone to follow her, and I knew it wasn’t me.
“Okay,” I said.
“I’ll be back in time for dinner,” she said.
“Dinner?” I asked.
“I should be starving by then.”
I felt Luke’s eyes on me.
“And I’ve got a load of washing on,” she continued, “so can you just chuck those clothes in the dryer when they’re ready? But not my blue top. That can just go in the drying room.”
She was nearly out the door before I managed to say something that had taken me a lifetime to say.
“No.”
“See ya, Luke,” she said, as if she hadn’t heard me.
“I said no, Rumer!”
Rumer turned around and looked at me, one hand on her hip.
Then I walked out of the kitchen and slammed the door behind me.
An hour later the phone jangled in the hall and I had to rush downstairs to pick it up.
“No one’s answering, Livinia,” I hear Grandma Vinegar say.
“Hello? Grandma?”
“Freya? Is that you, Freya?”
“Yes, Grandma. Did you ring just before?” I asked.
“Now listen, Freya. Something’s happened and I’m afraid Mr Chilvers won’t be–”
I didn’t get to hear what Mr Chilvers wouldn’t be doing because the line went dead. I jiggled the phone and tried to dial out, but there was just the faintest ghost of a whistle on the line, so I gave up. I checked my mobile and still had no signal, then jumped a little as a gust of wind rattled the front door.
Thinking Grandma’s weather forecast might be spot on, I fed more wood into the wood stove and into the fireplace in the library, just in case the power failed and we ended up with no heating. Armed with a candle and a box of matches, I went to the TV room and watched a couple of hours of very boring afternoon TV. It was so boring, I fell asleep on the couch and only woke up when the television made a loud noise and the screen image disappeared. The power was down.
It was late in the afternoon judging by the grey light outside. The wind was slamming against the house and an upstairs door shut with a loud bang. Rumer had obviously returned from her walk when I was asleep. From the kitchen I peered down the back garde
n for a sign of Mr Chilvers, but I couldn’t see the garage and couldn’t be bothered going outside to check. Maybe Mr Chilvers had been delayed? Maybe that was Grandma’s message. There was no sign of smoke from the cottage, and I wondered where Luke was working. I silently thanked Mrs Skelton for her wood stove, as I cooked up a jar of spaghetti sauce and a slab of minced meat. Then I checked the fridge and added grated carrot to help make it more interesting. A couple of times I heard the creak of footsteps from upstairs and once I heard a noise that sounded like furniture being moved about. I wondered what my cousin was up to.
Okay, you’re going to think I’m crazy at this point, but I’m going to tell you what happened next and you’re not going to believe it. Which will make two of us.
One moment I was in the kitchen, and the next I was standing on the front door steps looking out to Seal Rock. It’s like something made me do it. And from where I stood I could see what could have been a very large seabird or a small boat bobbing up and down on the waves. I stood there for a full minute but the thing just stayed where it was, bobbing up and down. I went back inside to the kitchen, stirred the spaghetti sauce then put the saucepan lid on tightly. Back on the front steps I could see the boat/bird was still bobbing about in the water. Every pore in my body was telling me there was something wrong. I had an argument with myself – it was getting too late to go for a walk down to Bluff Beach – but it was a short argument, and I wasn’t winning.
I grabbed a torch from the library and a coat from my bedroom. For a moment I was tempted to get Rumer to come with me, but when she didn’t answer the knock on her door I left without her. I took the short cut down to Bluff Beach and the tea-tree rattled in the wind that gusted every now and then. A low distant rumble announced a coming storm and I was already wishing myself back in the warm kitchen of Vinegar House. When I got down to the beach there were no surprises. The old dinghy had gone, which is what I’d feared. Only the rope remained, coiled up like a giant snake, one end still tethered in the sand. Out near Seal Rock, the upturned dinghy bobbed up and down on the waves. The gulls were squabbling nearby, then I realised that I could hear another noise.
“Freya! Freya!”
Love Notes from Vinegar House Page 12