Sorry We're Closed

by Annie Seaton

  His eyebrows rose. ‘Interesting.’

  Ginny felt a bit silly and hurried on. ‘I mean I imagined it was haunted. I had a couple of imaginary friends and sometimes when I was going to sleep I’d swear I’d see them next to my bed.’

  ‘Sounds like a fun childhood.’ He stared past her at the door, and then pulled his phone out and checked it again.

  ‘Not really. It was pretty lonely.’

  ‘Okay.’ Greg’s eyes crinkled at the corners with a bright smile, but Ginny wondered if he was being polite after her talk of haunted houses. He probably thought she was a fruit loop. She’d seen the way he looked at her orange hat and shoes when he’d first burst in.

  ‘I’m going to get a few thuds going down here, just in case there is someone up there.’ He glanced at his phone and shook his head. ‘The network is still down. Hopefully it won’t be too much longer.’ Greg crossed to the door and tried the knob again as though it may have fixed itself. He glanced back at her as he formed a fist and pounded on the door six times in succession.

  Ginny jumped as there was one answering thud from above. ‘Do you think there really is someone up there?’ A shiver ran down her back at the thought that there’d been someone else in the house with her the whole time she’d been looking at the clothes and talking to herself.

  ‘I think it’s just a door banging. If there was someone up there, they wouldn’t want us to know. They wouldn’t be banging about or they’d come down to see what we were doing.’ Greg said.

  ‘True.’ She grinned as his stomach gurgled. ‘It’s past dinnertime. ‘

  ‘It is. I’m starving.’

  Ginny smiled as she flipped open the top of her square patent leather handbag. She reached in and held up a muesli bar with a flourish. ‘This has been in here for a while, but I guess we can have dinner together after all.’

  Greg shook his head. ‘No. You have it. I’ll survive.’

  The plastic crackled as she unwrapped the bar and she held it up. ‘No. We’re stranded together, we’ll share.’

  He sat there quietly as she snapped the bar in two and passed half to him. ‘I didn’t bring a water bottle this afternoon, because I didn’t think I’d be here long.’

  ‘The water’s still on, and there’s a bathroom next door.’

  ‘A veritable feast,’ she said with a laugh. Despite the strangeness of the situation and being locked in a bedroom with a man she hadn’t known an hour ago, Ginny felt comfortable.

  ‘As long as we’re not in here for too long, I think we’ll survive.’ Greg looked across at her as he bit into the oat bar. ‘Shame I can’t put my boy scout skills to good use.’

  ‘Boy scout skills?’

  ‘You know. How to make a fire, build a raft, all those sorts of handy tricks. I can tie a damn fine knot too.’ His grin was wide. ‘If I could get the window open, I could knot the sheets together and climb down.’

  Ginny giggled. ‘I used to love the story of Rapunzel.’

  ‘What’s that? I didn’t learn that one in boy scouts.’

  ‘Really? You haven’t heard of “Rapunzel, let your hair down?”’

  ‘What, she was a party animal?’ Greg held her gaze and a funny warm shimmer ran down Ginny’s back.

  Honestly, this was the strangest night.

  ‘No, she let her hair down so her prince could climb up to the tower where she’d been locked away.’

  He glanced at her hair with a smile. ‘Well, I don’t think that’s going to happen unless we’re stuck in here for a long time.’

  ‘We’d starve before my hair grew long enough,’ she replied.

  ‘It’s all academic anyway, because I can’t get the window open.’ Greg stretched and put his hands behind his head.

  ‘And I don’t have a prince.’ Ginny neatly folded the wrapper from the muesli bar and put it back in her bag. ‘I could make the most of the time and keep sorting these clothes.’ She stifled a yawn.

  Greg reached into his pocket and checked his phone again. ‘God, there’s still no service. It must be a big outage. I wonder what’s happened.’

  Ginny’s heels clicked on the timber floor as she stood and walked over to the window. She looked down; the street below was deserted. The only movement was a scrap of paper being blown along by the stiff breeze. In the distance she could see the white caps of the waves where the lights across the front of the beach reflected on the white foam as they curled and pushed up to the sand. ‘There’s not even anyone down on the beach.’

  ‘Even if there was, we’d be too far away to be seen up here.’

  ‘This is crazy.’ She clenched her hands together as helplessness flooded through her. ‘I have to open the shop early tomorrow. I wonder how long before the phone comes on?’

  ‘Soon, I hope.’ Greg checked it again as though staring at it might make it work. He put it back on his pocket and stood. Pulling his keys out he crossed to the recalcitrant door and crouched down.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she asked curiously, walking over to stand beside him. Ginny looked down at the top of his head as he peered at the hinges on the door. She put her hands behind her back because she had the silliest urge to run her fingers through his sun-tipped short hair.

  ‘I thought maybe I could use my key to undo the hinge and lift the door off it, but...’ He leaned forward, and a whiff of a pleasant, woodsy cologne reached Ginny. She took a step closer and leaned over to look at what he was doing.

  ‘But?’

  ‘It’s jammed tight and the hinge is different to any I’ve ever seen. A real historical piece.’ He turned his face up to her and his smile was cheeky. ‘Just the sort of thing that you’d see in a vintage shop.’

  Ginny smiled back. ‘I’ll have to see if there is a demand for them.’

  Greg pushed himself up to his feet and looked down at her before holding out his hand. She looked down at it with a slight frown before slipping her hand into his. His fingers were firm and cool.

  Greg led her over to the bed and she frowned when he spoke.

  ‘Let’s try and fill the time.’

  ‘How?’ She pulled her hand from his and the bed creaked as he sat down, avoiding the clothes that she had spread on the end.

  ‘Conversation. Come and sit down. Pacing the room isn’t going to help. We’re going to be here until the phone service comes back on. At best.’ He patted the bed beside him. ‘Kick your shoes off, get comfortable and tell me about Ginny Silver. Start at the beginning and tell me about this lonely childhood in a haunted house. I’m fascinated.’

  ‘Not very fascinating. I had a good imagination.’ Ginny reached down and unbuckled her shoes, before slipping them off and moving across to the other side of the bed. Greg had moved up near the wall and was leaning against the brass bed head. She sat with her legs tucked to one side beneath her and smoothed her skirt over her knees demurely.

  ‘What about the hat?’ Greg pointed to her head. ‘It’s a bit disconcerting. I’m used to looking at blokes in baseball caps on the building site all day.’

  ‘Oh, I forgot I had it on.’ Ginny reached up and touched it. She must look silly sitting here with the pillbox hat on.

  ‘You dress the part for your shop?’ he asked. ‘Not that there’s anything wrong with wearing a hat, of course.’ The cheeky grin belied his words.

  She pointed to his work shirt. ‘You dress the part for your job.’

  ‘I do.’ He folded his arms and watched as she removed the hat and placed it carefully next to her bag and shoes. ‘But I’m not as colour co-ordinated as you are.’

  ‘I couldn’t resist this hat and shoes when I found them. They’re genuine sixties, you know.’

  ‘Probably wouldn’t suit me.’

  ‘Probably not.’ Ginny screwed up her nose and pulled a face at him.

  GREG WAS ENJOYING HIMSELF. The light banter between them had eased the tension of the situation. Being in enforced intimacy with someone he didn’t know had been off-putting for the first
few minutes after he’d realised they were stuck in this bedroom together. Ginny had relaxed now and the little grin that played around her pretty lips after she’d pulled the disapproving face at him when she’d removed the hat was cute.

  She was very particular in her movements. The way she’d folded the wrapper, and the neat way she’d placed her shoes and hat on the floor pointed to a very organised person, and he liked that. Kitty had set him up on a couple of dates last year and he hadn’t enjoyed himself at all. The women had all been late, full of inane chatter and self-centred.

  ‘Greg, you have to move on.’ Kitty had chastised him softly after she’d demanded a report after the second disastrous date. ‘It’s been three years.’

  ‘Four actually.’ He’d lifted the beer that Johnno had handed him and crossed the deck that overlooked the harbour. He’d seen the glance that Kitty and Johnno exchanged. Sometimes it was harder to deal with the expectations of friends than dealing with what had happened.

  The bed cover moved as Ginny settled onto the bed and Greg pulled his thoughts back to the present. ‘Okay, so time to tell me about this lonely child.’

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth her expression closed again. ‘There’s not a lot to tell,’ she said slowly. ‘I lived in Mt Isa with my grandparents. They died. I moved to Sydney.’

  It was what she wasn’t saying that put the sad look in her eyes. Her words were sparse but there was a lot of feeling underneath them. He wondered why she had lived with her grandparents.

  ‘Life can be tough.’ He glanced down at his phone for the hundredth time. ‘I had you pegged as a North Shore girl.’

  ‘Oh?’ Her pretty eyebrows lifted.

  ‘Shouldn’t make assumptions, should we?’

  ‘No, you shouldn’t.’

  ‘So you lived in the town or out on the land?’

  ‘Both.’ But that was all she said. Didn’t tell him much about her. Greg was fascinated by her; she was such a mix, but he couldn’t put his finger on why he was so interested in what she had to say.

  ‘Boarding school?’

  She shook her head. ‘Public school. Why do you ask?’

  He shook his head sheepishly. ‘Should I be honest?”

  She nodded. ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘The way you speak, and the way you dress. Pure private school. The posh accent. Where did that come from?’

  As he waited, Ginny stared at the wall behind him. Finally, she let out a deep sigh, looked back and held his gaze. She had the prettiest eyes; he could see the gold flecks in the green as she leaned forward.

  ‘Gran was from England. Central London, from a well to do family. She came to Australia when she was in her twenties and fell in love and stayed. She never lost her accent. I guess it rubbed off on me.’ Her eyes lit up as a smile tilted her lips. ‘I have such good memories. One of the funniest things you’d ever see. Gran on horseback, a string of profanities being directed at a beast, but always in the most cultured voice.’ Ginny giggled. ‘She’d be sitting up straight in the saddle—she was a brilliant horsewoman and she used to play polo too and she’d yell out. “Get back, you bastard,” at the top of her voice and the cattle would always jump to her command. We all loved her so much.’

  ‘We?’ Greg couldn’t take his eyes off Ginny’s face. Her eyes were bright, and her smile was wide, and her voice was full of enthusiasm. As he watched, her eyes closed briefly, and the smile disappeared. It was like a shutter had been pulled down over her face and the joy of her memories extinguished in one breath.

  ‘My parents, and my brother. Mum and Dad passed before Gran and Poppy.’

  When her eyes met his again, they were bleak and a ripple of sympathy ran through him. He knew exactly how she felt. She didn’t mention what had happened to her brother, and he didn’t ask.

  ‘But that was a long time ago. So I guess, all that remains is my posh accent, as you call it.’

  Greg held up both his hands. ‘I wasn’t having a go or anything. I like the way you speak. So tell me, why Sydney? It’s a long way from the central west of Queensland. Why did you move here?’

  She didn’t speak for a full minute, but Greg sat there waiting, wondering if he’d overstepped some line that he couldn’t see.

  Finally, with a gentle sigh, Ginny answered. ‘Life changes. Poppy died, and Gran went the very next week. She loved him so much, her heart broke and she just couldn’t go on.’ She turned her face to his. ‘I was always so jealous when I was a child. I wanted someone to love me so much that they couldn’t live without me, but when you grow up, you realise it’s too much of a risk. People die, or leave you, and you lose them. I think it’s better off not having anybody.’

  Greg nodded and his reply was soft. Now that she was talking he didn’t want her to pull back into her shell. ‘I understand exactly what you’re saying.’

  ‘So, I had no one else, and very little money, and no prospects of a job... and I gathered up all the things that Gran left to me and moved to Sydney. I had enough money to rent a fairly decent shop, I had stock, and I have a work ethic.’ She folded her arms and her eyes challenged him to disagree.

  ‘And you’ve settled here?’ he said carefully.

  She nodded slowly. ‘I’ve got somewhere to live, I’ve got my shop, and I’m slowly building my business up.’ He voice was firm, but Greg sensed there was a lot she wasn’t saying.

  ‘Did you already have friends or family down here? Is that why you came to Sydney?’

  She shook her head. ‘No. I just thought it would be a good place to open a retro shop. Lots of customers, from all over the world.’ She sat up straighter as though pulling her thoughts together and pointed one manicured finger in his direction. ‘Okay, so you know my entire life history. Now it’s your turn. And when you get to the end, I’m interested in why you’re buying this gorgeous old house, and turning it into a block of apartments?’

  She bit her lip as she looked back at him, and a warm, but long-lost feeling of awareness settled in Greg’s chest.

  Chapter Six

  Greg watched as Ginny’s orange-painted nails picked at the tufts of balled cotton on the floral bedspread. What a strange night this was turning into. His plans had been to finish measuring up here, pick up a burger and chips and head back to the study in his apartment and do some more work on the plans of this house.

  But if he was honest, it was much more interesting being locked in a bedroom with Ginny Silver. Everything about her fascinated him, including her comment about being alone being better than losing someone.

  ‘So, me?’ He looked up and held her gaze, again taken aback by how pretty she was. Even though her features were delicate there was a strength in her face, and after listening to her, he had more of an idea about what a strong woman she was.

  She nodded. ‘Yes, you.’

  ‘Well, I hate so say it, but I come from a well-to-do family on the harbour. My father is an architect.’ He looked away. ‘If you ask him, he is the architect in the city. My mother is a socialite, who lunches.’ He turned his head back to look at her. ‘I had a brother, but he died a few years back.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said softly, looking back at him. He lowered his eyes to her mouth. She had a habit of biting her bottom lip when she was uncomfortable; he’d noticed it several times already.

  ‘Thank you. I’ve moved on now, but my fiancée was with him in the car when it crashed. According to the post mortems they’d both been drinking, and to this day I still don’t know why they were out together at lunch time on a working day.’ Greg put his hands together and tapped his chin. ‘I know exactly what you mean by better to be alone, than lose someone. A lot less angst.’

  Ginny put her head down and didn’t speak for a moment. ‘It must have been very hard for your family,’ she said after a few minutes had passed.

  ‘Not really.’ Greg knew his voice was cold, but the memory of those weeks and months was not pleasant, and one he hadn’t revisited for a long time.
It was amazing how working hard could keep your mind occupied. ‘My mother dismissed it as an innocent lunch, and all my father wanted was for me to step into the business and take over Ryan’s role.’

  ‘He was a builder?’

  ‘No, he was an architect too. The same as me. It’s the profession that our father wanted us both to follow.’ Greg put his hands down and spread them out. ‘I did my degree in architecture, just like he wanted, but I also got a building apprenticeship at the same time, much to my parents’ disgust. Very Western Suburbs, I was told.’ He grinned as he remembered winding his mother up and put on her plummy tones. ‘Or at best lower North Shore.’

  ‘I’m still learning the geography of Sydney. I haven’t ventured far from Paddington and Randwick.’

  ‘Randwick?’

  ‘Yes, that’s where I live in a tiny shoe box.’ She looked up and gestured to the ceiling and Greg looked up too. ‘One day I am going to be able to afford a beautiful house like this near the beach, and I’ll do all the things I want to do.’

  Greg hadn’t noticed the ornate ceiling rose detailed in pale pink and green to match the carpet when he’d first looked at the rooms. He let his eyes sweep around the room, the plaster cornice was ornate too and the flowers and leaves had been hand-painted. He shook his head; hours and hours of painting with your head tipped back.

  What a huge job.

  He frowned. What a shame it was all going to be pulled out. ‘I wonder how many of the other rooms are like this,’ he wondered aloud.

  ‘Like what? With dodgy doors?’ Ginny’s giggle lifted his spirits.

  ‘No, with such detailed painting. It’s in very good condition for its age.’

  ‘Having second thoughts?” She lifted her beautiful arched eyebrows and another unfamiliar feeling consumed Greg, but this time it headed south and he pulled his knees up to his chest self-consciously.

  ‘No. This is the last development I’m doing before I leave.’

  ‘Leaving?’ The fleeting disappointment that crossed her face was gratifying. ‘Where are you going?’