Jasmine Sea

by Phillipa Nefri Clark

  “No problem really. I know what you want so he can phone me. Leave me a key and I’ll get him and his crew in and out each day. Okay?”

  “But you hate the cottage!”

  “I don’t. With you living there, how could I hate it?”

  ***

  Randall raced along the beach after a sky-borne frisbee, toward the stone steps leading up to the graveyard. In shorts and sunglasses, Martin wandered behind him.

  As he closed in on the frisbee, Randall abruptly stopped, his attention on the road above. The frisbee thudded onto the sand. Tail raised, Randall listened to something only he could hear. He wagged his tail then dropped it, disappointed.

  “She’ll be back soon, mate.” Martin stopped beside his dog, guessing he’d heard the Lotus leaving River’s End. He gazed to the top of the cliff.

  As long as Christie did as he’d asked and stayed clear of Derek, then no harm would befall her. And she was every bit as determined to avoid the man as ever so why, why was his heart racing and why were his hands clenched?

  Randall nudged Martin’s leg. With a deep sigh, Martin released the tension in his shoulders and patted the dog. Trust her judgement. He turned back toward his own home, high on the opposite cliff. When she returned, they could begin to plan their future.

  Chapter Three

  Christie stood at the window in her hotel room, one hand on the glass, as she peered down to dark water lapping against timber walkways. Leisure craft dotted the artificial bay. City lights flickered on beyond Etihad Stadium and, from here, Christie saw the apartment she’d lived in until late last year.

  No lights shone there. Derek would not be home for hours, if his usual routine still stood. She’d spent three years of her life there – two of them with him. Her furniture, homewares, all her special touches were still there, abandoned when she’d left.

  The palm of her hand was cold on the glass. She stepped back, rubbing it. Why did this matter? These past months were without doubt the best of her life, and in a few days she’d be home again.

  ***

  Familiar city sounds woke Christie before dawn. Trains in the distance. Traffic. The boats. A siren. She watched the sky lighten from her bed. Her view at home was to the same sky but through old trees.

  Less than an hour later, pulling her make-up case along behind, she hurried through the almost deserted shopping precinct of Harbour Town. Resisting the aroma of freshly ground coffee wafting from the cafes, she turned a corner and there it was: Docklands Studios. She might have worked on sets in Hollywood and around the world, but here, on the doorstep of Melbourne city, was her favourite.

  ***

  Three days in, Ashley dropped by as the crew packed up for the night. Christie gave him a weary smile and he wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug. “Time for you to get out of here.”

  “I wish.”

  “Delays?”

  Christie closed her make-up case with a nod. Ashley took it from her. “I’ll lock this up. You go change into something and we’ll pick you up in an hour.”

  “Oh, I can’t.” She giggled as Ashley shook his head. “I mean—”

  “One hour. Stop arguing. You don’t want to upset Ray, now do you?”

  “He’d understand.”

  “He would blame me.”

  She gave in. Dinner with old friends would lift her spirits. Just as long as they stayed away from Derek’s favourite haunts. No point complicating matters.

  ***

  Ray and Ashley wasted no time in escorting Christie right where she didn’t want to go. Beneath an almost full moon, the three of them followed the walkway along the marina. Water splashed against concrete pylons to their right, whilst traffic zoomed past on their left.

  Ashley chatted about a film he was overseeing, oblivious to Christie’s eyes darting at everyone they approached. Ray noticed, tucking her arm through his. “I saw him get into a taxi.” He patted her hand and she shot a look at him. “Think he was off to some event or other. He has no idea you’re in town.”

  Her mouth flickered into a small smile. “You always understand.”

  “Understand what?” Ashley realised he was being ignored.

  “That an overworked, hungry woman needs food, not a recital of your film credits. As if she doesn’t have enough of her own!”

  Ashley took her other arm, not the least offended by Ray. “One can never have enough. However, I agree we should feed her before she wastes away.”

  “Um, thanks. I’m unlikely to waste away, but I am thirsty.” She prodded them both.

  ***

  After a glass of white wine and shared entrée of olives, dips and bread twists, Christie breathed a happy sigh. The boys were embroiled in a debate over some place they’d visited years ago.

  “What’s so funny?” Ray held his hand up to pause Ashley mid-sentence.

  “Don’t let me stop you. I’m happy to be entertained.” Christie said.

  “It isn’t important.” Ray replied.

  “Oh, really?” Ashley refilled Christie’s wine glass.

  “I won the argument, and want to hear about Christie now, not you.” The main course arrived. “So, last I heard, you were at a wedding.” Ray prompted.

  “Surely we’ve spoken since?”

  “Seems the phone lines between here and your little town only work on occasion.”

  “I’m sorry. You need to visit. Just not until the cottage is finished.”

  “Finished?”

  “I’m trying to return it to its original condition, but with some improvements. You know, a real washing machine and perhaps even a phone line.”

  “So, you’re really going to live there.” The men exchanged a glance.

  “I do live there.” Christie toasted the air with her wine glass. “To my funny little cottage on a lonely little road in a tiny little town.”

  “And how is life with your new man?”

  A stunned silence followed Ashley’s question. Ray kicked him under the table.

  “Okay. How do you know about Martin?”

  “We’re your friends, sweetie. You can share anything with us.”

  “Ashley?”

  “Derek told him. And it is none of our business. Right, Ash?” Ray said.

  “I don’t mind you knowing. In fact, I can’t wait till you meet him, but when did Derek tell you?”

  Ray shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “A day or two after you moved out, he knocked on the door. Upset. Said you’d left him for an artist you met at your nanna’s funeral. Wanted some support but after what he did—ouch!”

  This time Ashley kicked Ray.

  Christie looked from one to the other. “You heard? The night I left him? I am so, so sorry.”

  “He was yelling at you. We were coming over when he slammed the front door on the way out. I hoped he would never return!” Ray’s face was bright red and his hands clenched into a fist. Ashley dropped an arm around him.

  Christie curled her fingers around Ray’s hand. “I should have told you both. He and his business partner sabotaged my job in London, which was just the final straw really and I don’t want to rehash it. But I never left him for another man.”

  “It didn’t make sense. After that dinner at your place, with Ingrid flirting with Derek right in front of us. Aargh.” Ray leaned his head against Ashley’s shoulder for a moment, eyes closed. Christie squeezed his hand as tightly as she could.

  “It’s okay. I’m over him. Over them. They want the land the cottage is on because another developer is buying up anything available. It really is just some game to them.”

  Ray’s eyes opened. “I wish it was him gone. Not you.”

  ***

  What should have been a pleasant stroll to the hotel turned into a sprint with a sudden downpour catching them halfway back. Christie abandoned her dignity and slipped her heels off. Arms linked and laughing, the three found cover.

  Ray fiddled with Christie’s wet hair as they waited, smoothing it back in
to place. “Beautiful! Now, Ash, how about we sneak into the studios and do some glamour shots?”

  “Funny man! There will be no images taken of me looking like this, thanks all the same.”

  “Surely your Martin would love to see you at your best?” Ray stood back with his hands in a square, peering through them like a camera.

  “He’s seen me at my worst so anything is an improvement. But no.”

  “And what was your worst?”

  Ray slipped his phone out as Christie checked herself in the window, wrinkling her nose at her reflection. She spun around as Ray took her picture.

  “Ashley, please tell Ray, no!”

  “Ray, no.” Ashley picked up Christie’s shoes as the rain slowed. “I imagine you’d like these, bella.”

  “Thanks.”

  She mock-glared at Ray, who grinned and took another shot. “Not nice!”

  “Not like you have Facebook for me to plaster it all over. Goodness knows why not though.”

  “You sound like Belinda.” Heels back on, Christie stepped out onto the walkway.

  “And who is Belinda?” Ray offered his arm to Christie, who pretended not to see it.

  “Belinda Crossman, from River’s End Bakery. She is the sweetest kid ever. Actually, in a couple of weeks she’ll be starting beauty school here, so I’ll have a reason to visit.”

  “A reason to visit? Oh, and we’re chopped liver?” Ray feigned offence.

  Christie held her hand out to Ashley, who smirked at Ray as he slipped it though his arm. “No, dear. You’re the chopped liver.”

  Ray darted to Christie’s other side. “Ah, I see what you’re doing. Excellent distraction. Now, you never did tell us about being at your worst.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “So?”

  “So, there’s my hotel.”

  “Shall we come up for a drink and you can fill us in?” Ray persisted. Christie stopped and threw her arms around him.

  “I love you.”

  He squeezed her back. “Not even one drink?”

  “Not even one!”

  With a laugh, she shooed them back to their own building. Her smile faded. I’ll miss you so much. Her life was split in two

  ***

  Outside her hotel, Christie stopped for a moment to squeeze rain from her hair.

  A taxi drove past, abruptly stopping at the curb a few metres further along. Christie glanced across at the movement, but nobody got out.

  She’d had enough of the rain and wanted a quick hot shower, another glass of wine, and a long conversation with Martin.

  ***

  The moment Christie entered the hotel, the passenger door opened. A deluge began, soaking the man who stood on the pavement even after the taxi drove away. Derek stared at the hotel. Through the window, he saw Christie head for the elevators.

  She was out of sight. Derek hurried to the windows, darting from one to another until he saw her again. She stepped into the elevator and glanced his way after pressing the button. He froze. The doors closed and Christie was gone. Again.

  Chapter Four

  Top down, the Lotus rounded the last curve before home. Christie pulled over to a shoulder, as she had done on the first time she’d come here. Then it had been for Gran’s funeral, knowing nobody and expecting to leave within a day.

  One day turned into a week. Going back to Melbourne – to her life with Derek – was not her first choice by then. The town and her inherited cottage grew on her so fast it was as if she was meant to be here.

  Back to her life she had gone though, until Derek showed his narcissistic personality one time too many and brought another woman into their relationship. Not that she knew if he had feelings for Ingrid Kauffman, other than their kindred love of property development, but Christie deserved better.

  It was early evening and at the bottom of the hill the town was a picture, with the slow river winding through a break in the cliffs, meeting the sea as a shallow lagoon. The air was oh-so-salty and pure, as a breeze filled Christie’s senses.

  She loved the city. Loved the movement and life, the restaurants and people. Martin used to call her ‘city girl’ and in those respects he was right. But River’s End held her heart now.

  All of a sudden, she had to see Martin. Instead of going home first, she nosed the Lotus back onto the road and past the turn-off to the cottage.

  ***

  Nobody was there. The sliding door was uncharacteristically closed – locked, in fact. Christie peered through the glass to an uninhabited house. She checked the shed. The old motorbike and the surfboards were present. The studio was as deserted.

  The sun almost touched the horizon and hunger gnawed at her stomach. She checked her phone, just in case. No missed calls. No messages. Unlike Martin.

  Derek had never bothered letting her know where he was. Annoyed that he’d crossed her mind, Christie pushed the thought away.

  ***

  By the time she turned the Lotus into the driveway, Christie was so tired that she just wanted to eat and then climb into bed. Even her suitcase could stay in the car overnight. Only her handbag and make-up case made it onto the porch with her.

  About to slip the key into the lock, Christie heard a noise from inside and stopped. Heart racing, she stepped back.

  The noise again – a small thud against the door. Another step back. Derek had got into the cottage before. But it couldn’t be him!

  The door handle turned, just a little. Christie eyes widened. The key clanged on the porch as she dropped it, hand flying to her mouth.

  “Randall, you need to move out the way if I’m to let Christie in.”

  The door opened enough for Randall, tail wagging furiously, to rush to Christie. Martin pushed the door completely open with a wide, welcoming smile.

  “Wondered where you got to when we heard you drive past.”

  In spite of the dog circling her in excitement, Christie’s hand still covered her mouth. It was Martin and Randall. Not some intruder. Not Derek.

  “Christie?”

  “I... I thought...”

  Martin reached out for Christie. She rushed into his arms and burst into sobs.

  ***

  “I thought we’d got past this crying stuff.” Martin held a box of tissues for Christie, who sat at the table with Randall beside her.

  “Me too. Sorry.” She dabbed at her eyes.

  Squatting down in front of Christie, Martin cupped her cheek. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  She leaned into his hand, fear evaporating with his touch. Her heartbeat was normal again and she was cross about overreacting. Who else would be here? He had a key.

  “You okay?”

  “I went to your house.”

  “Ah. We heard you drive past. Thought you must have needed something at the shop.”

  “No. Just you.” Her voice was tiny.

  He dropped his hand onto hers and squeezed it. “Come and see your room.”

  Martin led her down the hallway. The dining room door was closed and Martin tugged at her hand when she hesitated.

  At the bedroom door, Martin guided Christie in first. She stopped in awe. The plastering and painting was complete, with the lovely old ceiling rose returned to its position around the new light fitting.

  Heavy, sea-blue curtains framed a sparkling new window, with lace curtains draped to one side. Perfect against the pale cream walls.

  “I thought you said the painting wouldn’t be done yet?”

  “It needed doing.”

  Christie put her arms around Martin’s neck and kissed him. “Thank you. No abstract mural?”

  He grinned. “Hungry?” Without waiting for an answer, he left. Curious, Christie followed him to the dining room. The minute the door opened, mouth-watering smells of roast chicken wafted out.

  On the floor, a colourful blanket was spread out. A picnic basket overflowed with bread sticks, salads, cheeses and chicken pieces. Candles flickered on the windowsill. The two
straight-backed chairs – the only furniture in the room – served to hold plates and napkins. An ice bucket, complete with a bottle of chardonnay, rested on the floor beside two glasses.

  Martin held his hand out. “Are you coming in?”

  “Wow!” She managed, before a tear slipped down her cheek.

  Martin sighed and took her back in his arms. “You, my sweetheart, are overtired. When did you last eat?”

  Christie mumbled something against his chest. His scent filled her with longing to stay exactly where she was, but her growling stomach was just as insistent she move.

  “I hope you just said you had lunch today. And breakfast?”

  “I just wanted to finish and get home.”

  “Hmm. We’ll discuss this another time. Wine?”

  Randall flopped down in the doorway. His tail thumped on the ground when Christie patted his soft head. “Missed you.”

  She was home. Everything was right here.

  ***

  “Who needs a dining room table?” Christie sat cross-legged on the floor, wine glass in one hand and a piece of bread in the other.

  “Might get uncomfortable after a while.”

  “I might buy big cushions. Or bean bags.”

  “I hope not.”

  With a grin, Christie toasted him. “To you, with thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. For what?”

  “This. Painting my bedroom and making my bed. Being here when I got home.”

  Martin leaned over to kiss her forehead. “I should have told you we were here.”

  “You were right. I was overtired and hungry. Silly of me to react like that!” Her face tensed up.

  “Here. Come here.” He held his arm out and Christie shuffled over a bit to move into his embrace. With his free hand, he refilled their glasses.

  “How was Melbourne?”

  “Exhausting. Don’t get me wrong, I love the job still and I adore Docklands Studios. It was just... weird. Being back there.”

  “Did you see him?”

  Christie’s eyes flew to Martin’s. Worry creased his brow.

  “No! Of course not. I promised I’d stay clear and I did.”

  “But Docklands is small. That was my concern, that he’d run into you somehow.”