Before the Storm

by Morrissey, Di

  Ben gave Sally a quick kiss. ‘I can’t stay. I’m on my way to see Cassie and Steve and put them out of their misery.’

  *

  Mike leaned back and grinned. ‘Man, that was good. Fresh crayfish on a homemade bread roll. It’s great to be here again!’

  ‘When I rang to book, I asked them to keep a cray for you,’ Ellie said, smiling.

  ‘Thank you. It was almost as good as the news about the caravan park. That Susan must be a piece of work.

  To go after Patrick’s dog, troll the mayor and you, blindside Kathryn O’Neill, and try to push through an inappropriate development.’

  ‘She is,’ Ellie said, laughing. ‘But she didn’t do it alone. She and Ronan O’Neill are as bad as each other. I’m just glad we were able to stop them in time. So, speaking of developments, tell me what your plans are.’

  Mike leaned forward enthusiastically. ‘Not development: reinvention. Resuscitation. A heritage architect guy who worked with me on my app has restored a lot of old places. When I told him about the buildings along the river here he came down to Storm Harbour to see for himself. He was so keen he suggested we team up. So we are applying for government grants as well as approaching the council and state government for heritage funding to restore them.’

  ‘Wow, that’s big. But some councils are known for not having much imagination,’ said Ellie.

  ‘Ah, but Storm Harbour has an enlightened leader. Meredith is definitely forward thinking. I’ll pay her an official visit when the time’s right.’

  ‘That’s true. She’s always thinking about the future and what’s best for the town,’ Ellie said.

  ‘If you’ve finished, let’s walk to the river and look at the buildings.’ Mike smiled.

  They paid and went outside into the sun.

  ‘There doesn’t seem to be a lot of storm damage,’ said Ellie when they reached the riverfront walkway.

  They strolled through the little park by the lighthouse causeway to the row of old closed buildings that had once been the School of Arts, a warehouse, a clubhouse for the Sea Scouts and Rangers, and a storage shed used by the early seamen for their small boats, nets and fishing equipment.

  ‘Apparently these buildings have had various incarnations over the years,’ said Mike. ‘There have been attempts to do things with them on a small scale but they’ve just been forgotten. Growing towns want the newer stuff till they wake up to the value of reworking heritage buildings.’

  ‘So what would you do with them? They look so run-down. Aren’t they past their use-by date?’ asked Ellie.

  ‘According to my architect partner the interiors are in better condition than the façades, and structurally the buildings are sound,’ said Mike.

  They stopped as they came to the School of Arts with its fading Federation façade.

  ‘Let’s start here. The caretaker told me where he’d leave a set of keys for me.’

  ‘Wait. What’s that? I hear music!’ exclaimed Ellie.

  ‘Oh, he said someone uses one of the rooms for music classes on the weekends. Let’s see,’ Mike said.

  The moment they pushed the wooden double doors open and went into the old building, Ellie felt a rush of nostalgia. She grabbed Mike’s hand. ‘You can smell the history!’

  ‘What, dead mice and chewed red velvet curtains?’ Mike winked at her.

  ‘No! Of course not.’ She giggled.

  They could hear voices, and then as they went into a small auditorium the sounds of an amateur chamber music group floated across to them.

  Ellie gasped. On the dusty stage area, beneath a few dim lights, sat a small circle of musicians. Roly, playing his cello, was surrounded by kids in their early teens playing violins, a viola and a cello. It was a classical piece but before they finished, Roly stopped and rapped his bow on the floor for attention.

  ‘Let’s repeat that last phrase, minus the flaw. Begin, one and –’ Two of the musicians noticed Ellie and Mike and stopped playing.

  ‘Please don’t stop,’ called out Mike. ‘That sounded

  great.’

  ‘Roly! What on earth is this?’ said Ellie.

  Roly spotted them and pulled an exaggerated face. ‘Oh, wretched girl. This was to be a surprise!’

  ‘Are you running a chamber music class?’

  ‘Yes, Mr Bolton has been teaching us. We love it,’ exclaimed one of the girls.

  ‘These fine young people love music and I am happy to share what expertise I have. We are the Chronicle Ensemble, and our plan is to perform at Patrick’s eightieth birthday! As a surprise,’ added Roly a bit huffily.

  ‘But that’s next year!’ Ellie was trying to stifle a

  laugh.

  ‘Quite. So you are sworn to secrecy. We want to be perfect, mais non, troupe?’

  ‘Oui, oui,’ the teenagers called in unison, laughing.

  ‘So they practise their French as well? Très bon,’ said Mike. ‘Well, don’t let us disturb you. And our lips are sealed.’

  An hour or so later, Mike and Ellie had completed the inspection of the interior of all the buildings and emerged back into the sunlight.

  ‘It’s staggering,’ said Ellie. ‘On the outside they look as if they’re just abandoned buildings ready for demolition. Though now I see how the interiors could be restored. There’re so many beautiful fittings and fixtures. The window panes, the architraves and doorways, so much that could be re-used.’ She turned to Mike. ‘Just what would you do with these places?’

  ‘I’m not sure yet. But I’m certain we can give them a new life, repurpose them while keeping their magic and history.’ He smiled broadly, and his enthusiasm was infectious. ‘Actually, the possibilities are almost endless. They could be anything from a restaurant to a ballet school, specialty shops, an artists’ enclave, a foodie co-op, craft places to learn and sell goods, an IT central hub, an animal hospital . . .’

  Ellie nodded. ‘I see what you mean, only your imagination is the limit!’

  ‘Exactly. What does this town need? No – not need, but what will make this town inspiring, a drawcard for locals and visitors? That’s what we should work towards. It’s exciting,’ said Mike.

  ‘Totally,’ breathed Ellie. ‘I’m blown away. But how would you pay for the full box and dice?’

  ‘Down the track the project will need seed funding and the backing of locals to support and market it,’ said Mike. ‘Then we’ll look for investors, government funds, council help and so on.’

  ‘You’d need a pile of money, though,’ said Ellie. ‘But if people can see the vision . . .’ She paused as an idea came to her. ‘Actually, I might know someone who could get the ball rolling,’ she said.

  Mike raised his eyebrows. ‘Someone local? Not the O’Neills?’ he said in surprise.

  ‘Nope. It’s my mate Tommy.’

  ‘What! How on earth . . .?’

  Ellie smiled. ‘Tommy’s been something of a hermit, getting over the tragic death of his wife. But he does a lot of good work quietly behind the scenes for the people of this town. He has no family other than his friends in Storm Harbour. He wants to give back where he can. Tommy has the bit between his teeth now, so I’ll ask him.’

  Mike shook his head. ‘For a small town there’s a deep sense of family and community here. That’s why I admire your grandfather and his newspaper. And it’s transformed you, too, Ell. You radiate strength and self-confidence now. The shadows have gone.’

  Ellie gave a little smile and shrugged. ‘Guess this place agrees with me.’

  ‘It’s more than that. This town has brought out the best in you. I see now that you’ve inherited your grandfather’s passion, persistence and bravery, Ellie,’ he said softly.

  Ellie reached for his hand and held it tightly, overcome by his words and the dawning realisation that she knew she would fight, tooth and nail, fo
r all that Patrick and his country newspaper stood for – the right to call out cheats and liars, praise and promote the modest and those who did not ask for recognition for living life by simple rules: loving family, respecting others, helping in their community.

  ‘While I’ll always be involved with IT in one form or another, I have decided this is my community and home now,’ she told Mike. ‘I will always be part of the Chronicle and Storm Harbour. “To thine own self be true”, Poppy always told me, and now I know what he means.’

  ‘Yes. Like Roly. What a guy. You never really know about people, do you?’ said Mike as he reached over and touched her lips with his fingers.

  Ellie leaned towards him, then suddenly stood back. She looked up at him. ‘Mike, I have to tell you something. Like you said, you never really know about people. Kathryn said it to me, and in a way, so did Meredith; that the worst thing you can do is to keep a secret.’

  He looked surprised at the tone of her voice.

  ‘Secrets? You have a secret?’

  ‘Yes. I do. And I’d like to tell you.’

  ‘Of course, if you’re sure. Let’s sit down.’ They moved to a seat by the water’s edge.

  Ellie sat on the wooden bench, her hands clasped between her knees. Mike sat beside her, staring at the river.

  Haltingly, Ellie began to speak, returning to the painful memory of a young woman, still in her teens, swayed by the attention of a handsome and influential young man in town.

  She related how flattered she’d been by his attention at a dance, the unfamiliar drinks, how sick she’d felt, how she’d trusted him to help her and, instead, he’d tried to force himself on her. She described how she had fought him off and fled, leaving her terrified and traumatised, wounded in heart and soul.

  ‘I felt I could never trust a man again. I was physically safe, but badly scarred from the experience. I survived that night, but I never realised the damage it caused me. I blamed myself, and unknowingly that blame sabotaged any relationship I’ve ever had with a man since. He held that power over me. It’s a painful secret I’ve kept buried, but it’s time to let it go now.’ Ellie paused to draw a breath.

  Mike sat still, not moving, not looking at her, not touching her, and asked her, ‘Do you want to tell me who it was?’

  Ellie sucked in a breath. ‘Ronan O’Neill.’

  And she waited for Mike’s reaction.

  He was silent and still a moment before saying, ‘It must be hard for you to see him and his family and be involved with them. A constant reminder of your nightmare.’

  Ellie looked at him. ‘You know, I finally confronted him last night, at Kathryn’s birthday party. He had no idea who I was or any memory of what he’d done. I suddenly saw him for the weak and pathetic person he is, and I knew he had no hold over me anymore. I felt free. So now I want you to know that this is what happened. I blamed myself. I’ve never really trusted anyone since. Never trusted myself to feel worthy, or to truly love someone. I see now that I’ve never been totally honest in any relationship, always holding back.’

  Mike shifted, but Ellie stilled him, resting her hand on his arm, determined to get the words out.

  ‘You have been so patient and kind and such a good friend, Mike. I thank you for that.’ Ellie turned and looked at him. ‘But now I realise I want us to be more than that. I don’t know if it’s too late, but I want you to know that something has changed in me since confronting Ronan. I’ll understand if you don’t want more than just keeping our friendship. I want you to be my best friend still, but I also want to show you that I love you with all my heart. I ache at how I’ve let something hold me back, stop me from living my life as I want. Kathryn told me not to keep a secret from the person I love. Now I understand what she meant.’ Ellie took a deep breath. ‘So, there you are. I don’t mind what happens, I just needed you to know.’

  Mike slowly lifted her hand and kissed her palm, curling her fingers closed over his kiss.

  ‘I always felt you were wounded in some way. But you never made it easy for me to ask. I thought by being your friend I could stay close to you.’ He put a finger under her chin and tilted her head. ‘But now I want to be more than your friend.’ He lowered his mouth to hers. ‘I love you, Ellie, always have. Now it’s your turn to love me back. If you want. No more secrets.’ He kissed her slowly, gently. Until some dam burst in Ellie and she pulled his head to hers, clasping him, kissing him amid a torrent of tears, passion, laughter and love.

  Ellie and Mike walked through town, arms linked, and turned into the Chronicle office.

  The front bell jingled and Patrick, followed by Sam, came into the reception area. Patrick looked up and saw Ellie and Mike, hand in hand, Ellie’s face aglow, Mike with a huge grin.

  ‘Aha. Are congratulations in order?’ he asked, a smile breaking out on his face.

  Suddenly Sam loped over to Ellie, plunging at her side, and rubbing his head against her, trailing his leash.

  Ellie stroked his velvet ears. ‘It’s okay, Sam. I’m not going anywhere.’

  Mike looked into Sam’s deep brown eyes and reached to pat the old dog’s head. ‘Sorry, mate. Me either.’

  About Di Morrissey

  Di Morrissey AM is one of the most successful and prolific authors Australia has ever produced, publishing twenty-seven bestselling novels. She trained as a journalist, working in newspapers, magazines, television, film, theatre and advertising around the world. Her fascination with different countries, their cultural, political and environmental issues, has been the catalyst for her novels, which are all inspired by a particular landscape. In 2017, in recognition of her achievements, Di was inducted into the Australian Book Industry Awards Hall of Fame with the prestigious Lloyd O’Neil Award. In 2019, she was made a Member of the Order of Australia.

  Also by Di Morrissey

  In order of publication

  Heart of the Dreaming

  The Last Rose of Summer

  Follow the Morning Star

  The Last Mile Home

  Tears of the Moon

  When the Singing Stops

  Scatter the Stars

  Blaze

  The Bay

  Kimberley Sun

  Barra Creek

  The Reef

  The Valley

  Monsoon

  The Islands

  The Silent Country

  The Plantation

  The Opal Desert

  The Golden Land

  The Winter Sea

  The Road Back

  Rain Music

  A Distant Journey

  The Red Coast

  Arcadia

  The Last Paradise

  First published 2020 in Macmillan by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd

  1 Market Street, Sydney, New South Wales, Australia, 2000

  Copyright © Lady Byron Pty Ltd 2020

  The moral right of the author to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted. All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher.

  Cataloguing-in-Publication entry is available

  from the National Library of Australia

  http://catalogue.nla.gov.au

  EPUB format: 9781760983987

  Chapter image credits: Prologue, JohnCarnemolla/iStock; Chapter 1, Adrian

  R. Tan/Flickr, used under CC BY-ND 2.0; Chapter 2, arthurgphotography/

  Shutterstock; Chapter 3, Annie 888/Shutterstock; Chapter 4, caseyjadew/

  Shutterstock; Chapter 5, Tero Hakala/Shutterstock; Chapter 6,
JCDE/

  Shutterstock; Chapter 7, FiledIMAGE/Shutterstock; Chapter 8, TassaneeT/

  Shutterstock; Chapter 9, tsik/Shutterstock; Chapter 10, pisaphotography/

  Shutterstock; Chapter 11, HadelProductions/iStock.

  This is a work of fiction. Characters, institutions and organisations

  mentioned in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination

  or, if real, used fictitiously without any intent to describe actual conduct.

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