Seaside Manor Bed and Breakfast

by Lilly Mirren

  “I don’t believe so. Apparently, a neighbour saw him out in the yard… the relief is that they were able to call the ambulance as soon as he fell. So, he wasn’t there long. The neighbour then sat with him until the ambulance arrived, from what I understand. So, he wasn’t alone. Perhaps you could speak with her when you get home to find out more.”

  Diana nodded. She didn’t know her neighbours well yet, but she’d certainly get to know the woman who tried to save her husband’s life. A fresh wave of tears came then, and she couldn’t speak any longer. The doctor patted her shoulder, then left her in the room alone with the door shut.

  It wasn’t fair, wasn’t right — Rupert was good, he’d never done anything underhanded, or secretive. He didn’t have a bone of betrayal in his entire body — she’d been the one to do those things. It didn’t make sense that he should die before her. She’d always hoped she would go first, but not yet. They hadn’t had a chance to go on that cruise they’d been talking about for twenty years. Hadn’t visited London or seen the Eiffel Tower. They shouldn’t have put off their dreams for a business… she could see that now. Now that she’d stepped away and the Manor didn’t occupy her every waking moment — she understood that it’d consumed them for far too long.

  Sobs wracked her body, and she slumped sideways onto the row of chairs, ignoring the pain of the plastic as it dug into her side. Rupert was gone. With a start, she sat up, wiped her cheeks dry and stared at the door.

  He was gone, but his body lay beyond that door. She had to say goodbye, to give him one last kiss before he was gone. She leapt to her feet and pushed through the door.

  Chapter 27

  Ethan

  The Murwillumbah council was a place Ethan had never considered working before in his life. Too country, too rural… he’d always had his sights set in bigger and better, and those kinds of jobs were in the city.

  But now, everything had changed. The town itself was quaint, and the council building old but in decent shape. Dark brick, with a rabbit warren of offices hidden inside along narrow hallways. As many phone calls as he made, as often as he explained to prospective employers that he hadn’t done anything wrong at Mammoth, hadn’t known what was going on and that in fact the charges against him were dropped, or never laid in the first place, they didn’t hear him. Didn’t care. There was a mark against his name he wasn’t able to remove with a few weeks living in Emerald Cove.

  Here it was different. In Murwillumbah, only a twenty-minute drive from Emerald Cove, he was Ethan Flannigan. Nothing more, nothing less. People he knew, knew someone who worked for the head engineer at the council. They recommended him for a job opening, and that was all it took. Here he was, seated in one of a row of chairs, waiting for his chance to interview for a job as an engineer.

  Nerves fluttered in the pit of his stomach. Strangely enough, he wanted the job. One look out of the window at the small, picturesque riverside town, was all it took. He’d visited the town often enough throughout his childhood, had ridden there by bus regularly for inter-school sporting competitions, high school dances, camps… and even though at the time he’d wondered who in their right mind would live by a river instead of the beach, now he understood. There was a natural charm to the place.

  Set by a slow-moving, wide river, the centre of town was a study in century old architecture. Every shop front was a relic of the past, painted anew and holding modern wares, but a walk-through town was like a stroll through the past. And now, in his late twenties, he liked it. Enjoyed the feeling of history, the old-fashioned town clock sitting in the centre of the main street on an island of its own, the banks that looked as though bush rangers might emerge from their front doors at any moment, bandanas obscuring their faces, pistols held high.

  He wanted to work there. And wanting made him nervous.

  “Mr Flannigan, you can come in.”

  A woman ushered him into a dark office, then shut the door behind him. A man, seated at a dark timber desk, stood to offer him a hand. “Hi Mr Flannigan, I’m Paul Riordan, the head engineer here. Please, take a seat.”

  Ethan shook it, then sat. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “You as well. You have an impressive resume,” continued Paul, flipping through a set of stapled pages in his hands.

  Ethan smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Can I ask you something before we get started?”

  “Fire away,” replied Ethan.

  “Talk to me about why you want to work in Murwillumbah. I can see from your resume that your last position was with Mammoth in Brisbane, that would’ve been an exciting opportunity… working here is a bit quieter, so I’m interested to understand your reasoning.”

  “I’ve moved back to Emerald Cove and am fairly settled there. My mother lives there, my sister as well… I’d like to stay there if I can. I have very fond memories of this town from when I was a kid, and honestly, I’d like to slow the pace a little bit.”

  Paul nodded. “Okay, that’s good to know.”

  The rest of the interview went well. It was an informal chat, and Paul showed him around the offices, introduced him to people, and generally gave Ethan the impression that the job was his already. By the time they were done, Ethan shook Paul’s hand with confidence.

  “I’ll give you a call when we’ve interviewed the rest of the candidates. It was nice to meet you,” said Paul.

  He wasn’t about to give anything away, it seemed, but Ethan could tell he’d made a good impression. He grinned as he walked back to his car in the large parking lot that served the council building and the nearby public swimming pool. The swimming pool was shut for the winter, but Ethan knew that it would buzz with activity before long — children laughing, squealing, splashing. Some practicing their moves in the large diving pool, others swimming laps and still others careening down the hillside slide on blue, plastic mats.

  As he climbed into the car, he wondered what Emily would think of this opportunity. Would she be happy if he got a job, or would she think he was abandoning the Manor? The truth was, they weren’t making enough of a profit for both of them to draw a full-time income, and he wanted to make sure she was paid. She was the only one of them working full-time. Now that he’d fixed a few things, redone a bathroom, painted most of the rooms and built the pagoda in the garden, there wasn’t enough to keep him busy for eight hours a day. Besides, after having a nice break from engineering, he was feeling refreshed and part of him itched to get back to it.

  Chapter 28

  Sarah

  With a sniffle, Sarah tugged her jumper more tightly around her frame, then shivered. She peered into the darkness, the sound of rain pounding on the roof overhead. Where was Oscar?

  The dog hadn’t come in for his evening meal as usual. He was like clockwork. He loved to go for a wander through the bush in the afternoon, but he always came back in time for dinner. Ever since he first showed up as a stray in her yard and she’d fed him a bowl of kibble, he hadn’t missed a meal. But today he hadn’t shown, and she’d been concerned. Now it was pitch dark, a storm had rolled in and was drenching the point, and there was still no sign of him.

  Where could he be? Would he have found some kind of shelter somewhere and was waiting out the storm before he returned? Or had something happened to him?

  She squinted again, wondering if the dark shadow in the distance was him or a shrub. It didn’t move. Shrub. She shook her head; it was so hard to see him at night. His fur was a dark brown, almost black, and as soon as the light dimmed, he faded into the shadows.

  She strode inside and blew her nose on a tissue, then hurried to the kitchen to throw it in the rubbish bin on top of a mound of soiled tissues. Her cold was worsening. She’d had a tickle in her throat a few days ago, but since then it’d developed into a debilitating head cold, and she could barely go for five minutes without having to blow her nose.

  She shook her head, sighed, and blew her nose again, even as a headache pounded in the base of her skull.


  Of course Oscar chose tonight to disappear, right when she was too sick to do anything much about it.

  She pictured him crossing a road, headlights slashing across him as tyres squealed.

  With a sharp intake of breath, she reached for a handful of tissues to shove into her jeans pocket. She was going out to find him.

  Sarah donned her rain jacket, grateful to find it reached below her hips at least, and would keep most of her body dry, then searched the kitchen drawers for a torch. She found one, switched it on and the light glowed dim and orange — the batteries were almost dead. Just great.

  She found some more batteries after a ten-minute search, adrenaline filtering through her veins more with each passing moment. What if he was out there somewhere, injured, alone, soaking wet? Her heart pounded, and her head spun.

  On the back deck, she called his name a few times, shouting until her raw throat fairly throbbed.

  There was still no sign of him. She’d brought his dinner bowl outside, hoping that if he did show up, he’d stay on the porch eating until she found him there. She couldn’t believe the stray dog who hadn’t let her pat him for weeks was now so important to her that she couldn’t sit and relax while he was out in a storm. What’d happened to her?

  With a huff of disgust at herself for giving her heart to a mangy dog, she tugged the hood of the rain jacket over her head and traipsed down the back steps and across the yard, her gum boots squelching with each step on the sodden ground.

  She searched along the top of the cliffs, where a trail wound through the wild, leaning bushes that pulled away from the cliff face as though too afraid to look at the steep drop that fell over black boulders and jagged rocks to the expanse of sand below.

  “Oscar!” Sarah called.

  It was difficult to hear anything above the roar of the waves, whipped up by the wind, and the pelting rain against her hood.

  “Oscar! Come here boy!”

  She sneezed, reached for a tissue, and wiped her nose, only to discover the tissue was now wetter than her nose was. She grimaced and shoved it back into the pocket of her soaking jeans.

  It was impossible. She’d get pneumonia out there and she’d seen no sign of the dog.

  She peered at the beach, hoping for a glimpse of a black shadow flitting between the rocks, but couldn’t see any movement. She had to get back to the cottage and get dry before the sneezing got any worse.

  When she reached the cottage, the faint glow of the kitchen light warmed her heart. She hadn’t lived there long, but it was home to her. She couldn’t wait to get inside and warm up by the fire.

  “Oscar! Where are you?” she called, but her voice was lost in the rage of the storm.

  Mick’s truck was parked out front, and she quickened her pace, anxious to see him, even as tears lodged in her tender throat.

  Through the front door, she slammed it shut behind her, and peeled off the jacket, leaving it in puddle at her feet as she dripped in place.

  “Mick?”

  He appeared from the living room with eyes wide. “There you are. I was wondering what’d happened to you. Your car is outside, the lights are on, there’s even a cold cup of tea on the kitchen bench… I was beginning to think something terrible had happened.”

  She sneezed, a gigantic sneeze that shook her entire body. Her eyes watered, and the cold from her sodden jeans seeped into her body so that she shivered all over.

  “I’m sorry… I can’t find Oscar. He didn’t come home tonight for dinner, and now it’s raining…”

  Mick kissed her forehead. “You’re sick, you shouldn’t be out in this weather. Hold on, I’ll get you a towel.”

  He returned within moments with a soft, dry towel, and helped rub her down, shivering and sniffling. He led her to the bathroom and turned on the taps over the bathtub, checking the temperature with his hand.

  “Have a nice, hot bath. I’ll make you some soup. Okay?”

  She nodded, unable to do more than stand in one place, shaking from head to toe. Her headache had moved up and now resided in her forehead. It felt as though someone small had lodged themselves inside her skull and was hitting it hard with a baseball bat.

  Mick kissed her forehead again, then left her alone in the bathroom. She undressed slowly, her fingers fumbling over buttons. The jeans were difficult to get free of, she had to stop and turn, twist and groan to remove the wet denim, but finally she stood, naked before the steaming hot bath. She climbed in, one foot at a time, grimacing as the pain of the hot water stung her frigid toes.

  Finally, she slipped beneath the water’s surface with a gasp, then smiled. It felt so good. Warmth filtered its way through her body, and she lay there until she was afraid, she might go to sleep if she didn’t get out.

  Thoughts of Oscar, stuck out in the storm, filled her mind again as she dressed in a tracksuit and slippers. Tears pricked her eyes.

  She’d done everything she could. There wasn’t anything else she could manage, not while she was sick.

  Mick was in the kitchen, stirring something in a pot on the stovetop.

  He smiled at her as she sat at the dining table. “Better?”

  She nodded. “Much better. Thanks.”

  “You really shouldn’t be out in this weather, not while you’re feeling unwell. I’d hate for you to get worse.”

  “I know… but I’m worried about Oscar. It isn’t like him to stay away for this long. He never misses a meal, he’s a complete pig when it comes to his food.”

  Mick chuckled as he set a massive bowl of pumpkin soup in front of Sarah. Steam rose from the surface, there was a dollop of cream in the centre, and a plate holding a soft, bread roll in his other hand. She eyed it even as hunger gripped her stomach in a growl.

  “Wow, this looks amazing. Thank you. I didn’t have time to come up with anything, since I was so worried about Oscar.”

  “You’re most welcome. I brought it with me — it’s from the Emerald Cafe. Your mother is an amazing cook, you can thank her.”

  Sarah sipped at a spoonful of soup, almost singeing her tongue. “Mmmm… I love mum’s pumpkin soup. It’s perfect for the way I’m feeling.”

  “I thought it might cheer you up a bit.”

  She forced a smile onto her face, it was hard to be happy with Oscar still missing. “You’re the best.” She cupped his cheek with one hand, he turned his head to kiss her arm.

  “And don’t worry about Oscar, I’m sure he’s fine. We’ll find him.”

  She nodded, hoping that he was right. Although she’d have to wait until morning now before she could go looking again and hope that the rain stopped by that time. The sound of it pummelling the roof overhead almost drowned out their conversation.

  Mick headed for the front door, pulled a raincoat from a hook on the coat rack and shrugged his muscular arms into the sleeves. He’d hung up her coat for her, by the looks of it. It hung limp, still dripping wet, on another one of the hooks, her gumboots neatly lined up next to the wall.

  “You’re leaving?” she asked, her heart falling. She’d hoped he’d stay — it was lonely in the cottage without Oscar, especially with the storm lashing the point where the cottage was perched.

  “I thought I’d check a few haunts around the place to see if I can find Oscar. I won’t be long.” He smiled as he lifted the jacket hood over his head. “Stay warm, and I’ll see you soon.”

  She gaped as the door shut behind him. He was going after Oscar in the worst storm they’d seen in the Cove months — emotion welled up inside her and tears sprang into her eyes. He was the best boyfriend in the world. He’d asked her to marry him, spend the rest of her life with him, and she’d turned him down. She must’ve been temporarily insane. There wasn’t anyone else in the entire world she could imagine growing old with. He cared as much about Oscar as she did — the dog was a stray, a mutt, old and ragged with hip bones that still protruded from his sides. And yet Mick was out in the rain looking for him.

  She sobbed and rea
ched for a tissue to blow her nose. She honked hard into the tissue, then tossed it into a nearby bin. She should be out there with him, and she would be if it wasn’t for her darned cold.

  By the time she’d finished her soup, she’d pulled back the curtains to check the yard for any sign of either of them three times. At least she was warm now, and the sneezing seemed to have stopped, or at least was in temporary hiatus.

  She sniffled and nestled onto the couch, clicking on the television but leaving it on mute. The flickering image helped stave off the loneliness, but it couldn’t distract her from the thought that now both Mick and Oscar were out in the torrential rain and inky black night.

  The back porch was drenched, along with her banana lounge and rocking chairs, dining table set and hammock. Even the glass doors that led outside were wet with water droplets carried in on the howling wind.

  Sarah tucked her legs up beneath herself and stared out into the darkness. Then, Mick ran up the back steps carrying Oscar in his arms. She gaped, leapt to her feet, and flung the back door open. Mick hurried inside, dripping a river of water in his wake.

  “I found him. He’s hurt his leg, I think. He was caught in a roll of barbed wire that’d come loose from a fence down the road.”

  Mick carried Oscar to the bathroom and set him in the tub. He was covered in mud, soaked to the bone and shivering. Sarah turned on the taps, filling the tub with warm water. She washed Oscar while Mick showered and changed in her ensuite. The bath water turned pinkish as blood seeped from the wounds on Oscar’s front right leg. She bathed it gently, eliciting a yelp followed by Oscar licking her hands.

  “Okay, boy. I won’t hurt you, at least I’ll try my best. Come on, let’s get you dried off and warm.”

  He’d stopped shivering before she got him out of the tub as the hot water did its job. She rinsed him with clean water after flushing the muddy remnants from the tub. Then, carefully, she towelled him dry. Finally she carried him to the lounge room where his pillow-style bed was, lay him on it and hurried to fetch the first aid kit. By the time she’d bound his leg with antiseptic and bandages, Mick had joined her, freshly showered, and dressed in a spare set of clean work clothes he’d found in his truck.