Cottage on Oceanview Lane

by Lilly Mirren

  She sniffled, wiped her nose with the back of one hand. "I don't know… He won't even talk to me."

  "Give him some time. Don't give up on him, it's the death of a big dream for him… Competitive surfing is out of the picture for him now. But I hope he'll be able to see that there's the hope of other things ahead for him, things that he might even enjoy just as much."

  She shook her head. "I doubt that." Her throat was thick with tears.

  "I have to get going, but I'll see you tomorrow and we can talk more if you'd like."

  She watched as Dr Benson walked away down the wide hall. The beep of machinery echoed through the buzz and hum of nurses striding with purpose, patients working their way slowly from their rooms to the cafeteria, their hospital gowns flapping with each step, and visitors shushing rowdy children who sat with hands folded in little laps, lips pouting in protest.

  With a sigh, she strode back into the room, blinking away the last of her tears.

  Chapter 11

  Sarah

  The tick of the grandfather clock set a rhythm that had Sarah's foot tapping beneath her mother's solid blue gum timber desk. She chewed on the end of a pen, her eyes narrowed as one finger traced a column of numbers scratched in her mother's hand.

  "Have you never heard of a computer?" Sarah murmured around the pen.

  "What's that?" Mum called from the nearby kitchen.

  The scent of roasting meat drifted through the office doorway.

  "Nothing, just wondering why you're still using this old ledger book to keep track of your accounts for the cafe," Sarah replied with a grimace.

  Mum stood in the doorway with a ladle in one hand. Her grey hair had been styled into perfect waves that looked as though a wind had come through and blown her locks back from her face. She wore a pink ruffled apron around her neat waist, paired with a dark pink top and white capri pants. Sarah only hoped her legs would look so good when she reached her sixties.

  "I've always done the books that way, and I wouldn't know where to start using the computer for it… I guess we could try…but honestly, it's fine the way it is."

  Sarah cocked her head to one side. "Is it? I can't for the life of me figure out what's going on. What is this, here?" She pointed a finger at one line item.

  Mum leaned forward, studied it with a squint. "I can't see without my glasses, but it's probably a personal expense."

  "So why is it listed against the cafe?" Sarah asked.

  Mum shrugged.

  Sarah continued working a while longer, getting more concerned and confused with each moment that passed. From what she could see, it looked as though the cafe was in debt. A lot of debt. And she couldn't figure out why expenses were so high, given the incoming revenue was decent.

  "Mum, what's all this debt," she called.

  Her mother's head popped through the doorway again. "Oh yeah, that."

  "What's going on?"

  Mum's lips pursed. “That’s the debt I told you about — you know, from your father."

  “I wanted to talk to you about that,“ began Sarah, “how on earth did he manage to do it without your knowledge?”

  "I don't know, and he won't return my phone calls." Her mother's smile tightened. “As I mentioned before, when we were first married, he convinced me it would be good for tax purposes if I added his name to the business. So, I did. I can't imagine what I was thinking - I mean, it's my business. Why would I add his name to it? Anyway, I'm talking to a lawyer about getting him removed. But in the meantime, he's managed to practically sink the cafe in debt, and I didn't know a thing about it — I should’ve known, but I didn’t.”

  "Oh, Mum, I'm so sorry." Sarah's heart ached for her mother. The cafe was more than a business to her; it was the legacy passed down by her parents, it was the place she'd spent most of her childhood and in turn where she'd raised her own children.

  Mum disappeared back to the kitchen. Her voice echoed through the doorway. "It's Christmas Eve, can't you do this another time? Don't get me wrong, I'm so grateful you're helping. I really am at the end of my rope with all of that…but your brother and sister will be here soon. I'd love it if you'd come out to the kitchen and sit with me while I cook. You can even open a bottle of red if you like."

  Sarah sighed. "I guess I can stop. It's not as if I actually understand any of it. And it’s giving me a stomach ache…” She ran fingers through her dark hair, sending it cascading down her back.

  With the ledger shut, she followed her mother back into the kitchen and sat at the bench. Mum handed her a bottle of shiraz and two wine glasses, and Sarah opened it and poured them both a drink. They clinked the glasses together.

  Sarah smiled at the grin on Mum's face - Mum loved this stuff. Loved it when her family gathered under her roof, and soon she'd have all three of her children in one place. Sarah knew it was everything her mother had hoped, for her first Christmas without Dad. At least, she imagined it was, and the smile seemed to confirm it.

  "Cheers," they both said at the same time.

  Sarah chuckled, then sipped the wine as Mum went back to basting the roast.

  "It smells amazing, Mum."

  "I hope it tastes as good," Mum replied.

  "It always does, and I'm starving. I haven't eaten anything all day in preparation." Sarah tugged at the waist of her skirt. "I wanted to make sure I had plenty of room for the feast."

  "Thanks for bringing the pavlova."

  Sarah grinned. "You're welcome. All I did was put whipped cream and sliced fruit on top of a meringue I bought at the market."

  "Still…one less thing for me to do. And it looks delicious."

  "So, how are you feeling?" Sarah asked.

  Mum set down the basting brush and wiped her hands on the apron. "What do you mean?"

  Sarah waved a hand around as she took another sip. "I mean, without Dad. This will be our first Christmas without him. Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?"

  Mum's nostrils flared. "I'm fine. In fact, I was thinking just this morning how great it was not to have to get up and make someone breakfast before finishing off my Christmas shopping. And I've managed to get the staff at the cafe up to a level where they can run the place without me some of the time, so I'm pretty content all around. I had a lovely day of shopping and cooking, and even had time for tea with Diana."

  "Sounds great, Mum. But the others will be here soon… Don't you think it'll feel a little strange without him?"

  Mum hesitated. "I guess that's probably true. Although, don't worry about me, I'm fine. I hope you kids adjust, I know it's a big change for you. I'm sure you miss him."

  Sarah sighed. "I do miss him, but I'm still so mad at him for what he did. I don't understand it. I thought I knew him…"

  "We all did." Mum's hollow voice surprised her.

  Sarah got up and met her mother in the middle of the kitchen. She laid a hand on her arm. "I'm sorry, Mum. I know it's hard for you to talk about, but I don't think we can go through Christmas without acknowledging that it's our first time without him."

  "It's fine." Mum patted her hand. "I know you want to talk about him, you miss him…but honestly, I don't. I don't want to talk about the fact that he's not around, and I don't miss him." Her eyes flashed. "He made the choice, it's his loss. And I get to have the three of you all to myself."

  Sarah embraced her mother, enjoying the feeling of safety and warmth she always felt in her arms.

  Mum wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "Do you think you could throw together a few nibbles for me?"

  "Sure," Sarah answered.

  Mum pulled a platter from a cupboard and handed it to her. "There are nuts, biscuits and chocolates in the pantry. Cheese in the fridge."

  With a bob of her head, Sarah got to work arranging the items on the platter.

  "Are you settling into the cottage?" Mum asked as she reached into the oven with a pair of tongs to turn the baking potatoes, pumpkin, capsicum, beetroot and sliced onions.

  "It's ok
ay. It still doesn't really feel like home, with boxes jammed into every room and so much mess. I think it'll be great when the renovation is finished though. And there's a dog…"

  "What do you mean, there's a dog?"

  Sarah laughed. "This mangy dog showed up outside the cottage a couple of weeks ago. I gave it bacon, and now it keeps coming back. It won't let me near it, of course. So, I haven't been able to find out if it's a boy or a girl, but it stands in the distance, eyes begging for more food."

  Mum pressed a hand to her heart. "Oh dear. I hope it's not vicious."

  Sarah huffed. "No, Mum, it's not vicious. It's a stray, but I wonder where it came from. There are only a few houses around my area, otherwise mostly bushland. I guess it could've come from town, though that's a long way to run for a dog."

  Mum's eyes narrowed. "I think the man who used to live there owned a dog of some kind, a mutt. I remember seeing it when I took him soup one time."

  "Really?"

  "Yes, but that was a few years ago now. He died from a stroke in the end. Perhaps it's his dog. I don't know if anyone would've thought to collect the poor animal, since Phil died in the hospital after a long stay. Maybe his dog was forgotten in all the craziness. I don't think he had any relatives, so it's entirely possible your dog lived in that cottage before you."

  Sarah crossed her arms over her chest. "That makes a lot of sense. It certainly seems to feel at home there, hangs around on the edges of the clearing a lot. Do you remember its name?"

  "Hmmm…let me see." Mum tapped fingernails in a steady rhythm on the stone bench. "Odin, or Owen, or…Oscar. Yes, I think it was Oscar, but I could be wrong. Anyway, worth trying it out, see if the dog responds, I suppose."

  "Yeah, thanks, Mum, I will." She really had no desire for a dog; they were nothing but work. Still, she wasn't sure she could do anything about it. Oscar, or whatever his name was, didn't seem to want to move on. He'd hung around the cottage for two weeks, in the shadows, just out of reach but never far away. Maybe his name would help her get a little closer to him. If he was going to be a part of her life, he'd need a bath at the very least.

  The sound of the front door opening caught their attention, and Sarah hurried to meet her siblings.

  "Merry Christmas!" she called, hugging them one at a time.

  Adele kissed her cheek, her hazel eyes glowing. "It's good to see you, sis."

  "You've shrunk!" Ethan declared, throwing his arms around her and spinning her wildly.

  Sarah laughed. "No, you've grown."

  "Oh, that makes more sense," Ethan replied with a wink, his brown hair perfectly mussed.

  They wandered into the living room, chatting and laughing together. Sarah watched with a smile as Ethan and Adele put down their luggage and embraced their mother. She hadn't realised until that moment how much she missed them.

  Chapter 12

  Rebecca

  Rebecca Mair studied the sea with a frown, inhaled a long, slow breath, then continued walking as the water hurried back into the ocean, leaving a dark path in the sand. Waves curled to shore then chuckled with bubbles and froth as they enveloped her bare feet.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling the cool wind from across the ocean in the dimming twilight. It was cool here; at least that was a bonus. After the stifling heat of Sydney's western suburbs, she enjoyed the feel of a sea breeze on her cheeks.

  In the distance, a family played cricket on the sand. A young boy bowled the ball, his arm flinging awkwardly forward. The ball bounced once on the hard sand, then a man, most likely the boy's father, hit it with the flat side of the bat. It dribbled over the sand as the man ran towards a set of wickets that'd been stuck at odd angles, pushed down beside the remnants of a sandcastle.

  A woman ran after the ball, her laughter carrying on the wind to where Rebecca stood. A young girl crouched by the wickets ready to catch, hands poised in front of her coiled body.

  She wanted to smile, but it'd been so long since she'd felt any desire to, the urge dissipated before her lips had the chance to curve. The sudden realisation of how long it'd been since she'd smiled, or felt happy enough to try it, made Rebecca shake her head. She pushed her hands deep into the pockets of her denim capris and kept moving, shoulders hunched.

  She turned to head up the beach towards the line of shops and small buildings. Her new unit was up there, above a fish and chip shop. It smelled like fried food and vaguely of smoke in her small, dark living room, though the single bedroom that jutted off one side of the narrow kitchen was a little better.

  She'd shut all the windows when she left in hopes it might improve while she was out, though she thought it unlikely given the fact that the structure had steeped in the aroma for years, possibly decades given the paint-chipped, rusted and stained look of the place.

  When she reached the street, she glanced at her unit, the curtains drawn shut, giving the two street-side windows a sleepy look, eyelids drawn partially closed over tired eyes.

  On the ground level, the neon of the fish and chip sign blinked bright in the dim twilight. Diners sat around on mismatched chairs, phone screens captivating their attention while they waited for their meals to be served steaming hot and wrapped in butcher's paper.

  With a long breath that drew into her lungs as though it'd been an age since the last, Rebecca spun on her heel and continued down the street rather than face the silent emptiness of her new home. As she walked, the street grew busier. Soon she found herself in the centre of downtown Emerald Cove. Walking through the hamlet from one side to the other only took about fifteen minutes, so she wasn't sure she could call it a town.

  A woman pushed a pram past her, glanced up and offered a smile, her eyes glinting with curiosity. Two men, deep in conversation, turned to look at her as she passed the cafe they were seated in. A group of children playing hopscotch on the pavement stopped to look, and one pointed in her direction. They all fell silent as she passed.

  Emerald Cove was a tourist town; surely they were accustomed to strangers. Or perhaps the locals had already learned she was here. She wouldn't be surprised; she'd heard that everyone knew everyone else's business in the seaside village. A new police officer was bound to capture the attention of the people who lived there, especially after what'd happened to the cop whose shoes she'd be filling.

  She could feel eyes boring into her back as she walked and stiffened her spine in response. She hated the feeling of being watched, of attracting attention. It was exactly the reason she'd chosen Emerald Cove, to fade into the background, to disappear. She didn't want attention and certainly didn't need it.

  It was at times like these Rebecca wished she could call her mother, talk to her about the lonely stone that'd taken up residence in her gut and wouldn't seem to shift no matter what she did. Talk to her about starting over in a new place, with new faces, new names, a new chance to screw things up all over again.

  With a grimace, she studied the outside of a small shop - the sign read, "Emerald Cove Foodstore". She swallowed, certain that she'd prompt a deluge of gossip by walking inside. With a shrug, she strode through the automatic door, a bell jangled over her head. Faces tilted in her direction, curious but kind enough. She didn't hold anyone's attention for long, and as she selected fruit to add to a basket that swung over her arm, the breath that'd caught in her throat released with a quiet sigh. She could do this. Could start again, rebuild her life. It wasn't what she'd wanted or planned, but it was her chance to make the kind of life she needed, even if she had to do it alone.

  Christmas Eve alone was harder than she'd thought it'd be. She'd planned on letting this holiday pass without a second thought, but the decorations that marked every storefront, filled the shelves and hung from the ceilings, along with the cheerful piped music made it difficult to overlook.

  At the checkout, the girl who served her looked about twelve years old, though Rebecca knew that couldn't be the case. Now that she was twenty-eight years old, anyone under the age of twent
y looked like a baby. By most estimations, she was still young herself, but after everything that'd happened to her over the past few years, she felt ancient. As though she'd lived five lifetimes.

  "Merry Christmas," the girl said with a grin as she pushed groceries over the scanner.

  "You too." Her lips tightened. Why did it matter whether it was Christmas or any other day of the week? She had no intention of celebrating Christmas this year, since Christmas was for family and she had no one to share it with. It shouldn't bother her. She was surprised by the emotion that welled up in her throat.

  "You visiting?" the girl asked, mousy blonde hair falling across brown eyes.

  She studied the name tag pinned to the girl's thin chest.

  Martha, How can I help you? it said.

  "I've just moved here," Rebecca replied, tugging her credit card from her purse.

  "Oh? Well, welcome to Emerald Cove."

  The lump in Rebecca's throat grew. She wasn't accustomed to kindness. It was the one thing she had no defence against.

  "Thanks."

  "You the new copper?"

  Rebecca nodded. "That's right."

  The girl's lips pursed. "Don't worry, it's pretty quiet around here. You'll love it. And never mind what anyone says. Okay?"

  Rebecca's eyes narrowed. What did that mean? What would they say to her that needed prior warning?

  "Thanks, I think it's going to be great." She took her bags, one in each hand, and - with a nod of her head - left through the swishing doors.

  "See you around," called the girl behind her.

  Chapter 13

  Meg

  The gift in her hands felt like a stone. Meg turned it over, swallowed and fingered the red ribbon she'd tied around the gold paper. It wasn't much, just a watch, but it told time, had an alarm, could even be connected to Brad's mobile phone if that was what he wanted.