Bungalow on Pelican Way

by Lilly Mirren

  “Hi, Edie,” said Charlie.

  She smiled, her chest tight. He always seemed to make her feel that way, a mixture of butterflies and breathlessness.

  “Hi Charlie, where are you two headed?” She slid from the horse’s back and threaded the reins over his head.

  “Going shooting,” replied Bobby instead, with a toss of his head. “Tell Mum, will you?”

  “I’m not telling Mum, you tell her. She’ll be mad as anything if you go out shooting without asking first.”

  Bobby groaned. “She knows I’m going, she’s with the milking cow, and I don’t feel like going over to the shed to tell her I’m leaving. Just tell her all right?”

  Edie rolled her eyes, and she let out a huff of air. “Okay, jeez, I’ll tell her.”

  Bobby ran around the side of the house and soon returned wheeling his bike. He slung a rifle across his back and climbed onto the seat. “See ya later.”

  Charlie’s gaze met hers. “So, I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Edie nodded. “See you then, Charlie.”

  He grinned, his blue eyes sparkling beneath a long blond fringe and the cap of his wool hat, then he pushed off, peddling, his breath forming white clouds in front of his face.

  The two boys cycled down the driveway together.

  Edie watched them go, her heart jittering in her chest. Charlie seemed nice enough, but he made her nervous. She headed for the shed. Time to put Eliza away and go inside to thaw by the fire.

  8

  August 1995

  Cabarita Beach

  Kate chewed the end of the pen as she scanned the kitchen. The inn was a spacious, regal structure, and hadn’t been renovated or painted in years. Jack was too old to be the only one responsible for the entire property’s upkeep, and for some reason Nan hadn’t taken the initiative to bring in anyone else. She couldn’t help wondering why and had never thought to ask. Although she hadn’t noticed before now how bad things had gotten.

  The wide, timber floorboards were scuffed and in need of polishing. The paint was chipped and stained in places. There were scuff marks on the walls and some of the tiles that lined the kitchen above the bench were broken or had fallen away. The old stove seemed to be in decent shape, but the refrigerator and freezer were old and constantly emitted a loud buzzing sound at opposing pitches.

  Mima sat at the kitchen table, a ledger book open in front of her, pen poised above it. She was putting together an order list for groceries for the week and told Kate she wasn’t accustomed to feeding so few.

  “Did you say you’re doing a stocktake?” asked Mima.

  “Um… yep.” Kate studied the notebook she held in one hand, then scribbled a few notes.

  “What exactly does that mean?” asked Mima.

  “Well, we still don’t know Nan’s final wishes for the Inn, and I was talking to Davis last night about it — he suggested I write down everything I find around the property, so at least if we sell, which we haven’t decided yet, we’ll know exactly what we’re dealing with.”

  Mima’s lips tightened. “You think you’ll sell?”

  Kate inhaled a slow breath. She knew what it would mean for Mima and Jack and hated to put them in that situation. But if Nan left the inn to her and her sisters, then there was no way they could keep it. She didn’t know how much the upkeep would cost, and none of them had the faintest idea of how to manage an inn, let alone the fact that all three of them lived in different cities. “We don’t know for sure yet, but it’s a definite possibility.” She lay a hand on Mima’s shoulder. “I’m sorry Mima, I know you and Jack both live on the property, but Reeda, Bindi, and I don’t know the first thing about running the place, and even if we did, we don’t live nearby. I’m not sure how it could work.”

  Mima nodded. “It’s okay, love. Jack and I will find our own way, don’t worry about us.”

  “Where does Jack live, by the way? I don’t think I’ve ever seen his place?”

  “He lives in a little cottage at the end of the cove. It’s right on the edge of the property line. We have about ten acres of scrub land and beach front property here. It’s a bigger parcel than most realise.”

  Kate spun the pen between her fingers, her lips pursed. For some reason she hadn’t understood that. She’d always thought the property line only stretched as far as the horse paddock, down to the beach and back to the road.

  “No wonder the place is so rundown. That’s a lot for Jack to manage.”

  Mima chuckled. “Don’t tell him that. He thinks he’s still in the prime years of his life. Come to think of it, I do too, until I try to walk, and my hip gives me grief.” Mima slapped her left hip and grimaced.

  Kate wandered around the inn, peering into every room. The last of their guests had finally checked out that morning, so the entire place was empty, apart from the rooms she, her sisters, and Mima occupied. The housekeeper, Milly Wood, came from her home in Kingscliff each morning to clean, but was always gone by two o’clock. So, the only other person left on the property was Jack, and according to Mima his cabin was some distance from the inn. Kate was curious enough to want to take a look at it sometime. But for now, she had a job to do.

  She wrote a list of furniture, guessed at room sizes, and noted the damage she found. She counted bedrooms and bathrooms and was surprised to recall that although the inn had eleven bedrooms, there were only three bathrooms. That was something guests wouldn’t be too keen on when making travel plans in the nineties. And as far as the decor went, the inn was firmly stuck in the nineteen sixties.

  By the time she reached the sitting room, she was on the third page of notes. She found Bindi and Reeda there, each holding a hand of cards.

  Bindi stared at the cards, fanned out in front of her, feet extended to rest on an ottoman as she leaned back in an oversized, tartan patterned armchair.

  “It’s your turn to make a move. Come on, you’re the slowest card player I’ve ever seen in my life,” complained Reeda, slapping a hand to her forehead and slumping in her own matching armchair.

  A small, round table stood between them, with a pile of cards in the centre.

  “Wait a minute. I’m thinking.”

  Reeda groaned. Then, she caught sight of Kate. “Kate, can you please tell her this is not rocket science?”

  Kate laughed. “What are you playing?”

  “Twenty-One,” replied Reeda with another groan. “Come on, Bindi. You’re killing me.”

  Bindi poked out her tongue in Reeda’s direction, then fixed her gaze on Kate. “What are you doing? You wanna join us?”

  Kate pursed her lips. If she were being honest, one of the reason’s she’d decided to do the stocktake now was so that she could avoid spending too much time with her sisters.

  Time together almost always resulted in some kind of confrontation, and she wasn’t up for it. There was too much going on, too many other things to think about and deal with. She couldn’t take an argument on top of it all. Ever since they lost their parents, Reeda had grown a biting tongue. She used it to slice pieces from her sisters and Kate had shrunk from her, in response, widening the gap between them with every passing year.

  “Ah… I’m making a note of everything in the inn. You know, in case we have to sell.”

  “Why would we have to sell?” asked Bindi, sitting straighter in her seat.

  Reeda grunted. “Because, if Nan left it to us, we’re hardly going to move to Cabarita to run an inn. Are we?”

  Bindi shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “We don’t have to make a decision yet, because we have no idea what Nan’s wishes were. I’m going to call the solicitor today and make an appointment, if I can find him.” Kate sighed, if only she’d shown a little more interest in Nan’s life, maybe she’d know details like who wrote Nan’s will. So far, a quick search of the office hadn’t turned up any copies. Mima had checked the rolodex with no luck. She’d have to do a more thorough search later.

  “I’ll locate t
he solicitor,” said Reeda, still eying her hand of cards. “Do we know his or her name?”

  “All I know, is that he’s a him, according to Mima. But she couldn’t remember his name. He has an office in Kingscliff, but that’s all I’ve got. I was going to do a more thorough search of the office to see what I could find after I’ve finished with the stocktake.”

  Reeda shrugged. “I can do it. No worries.”

  “Thanks.”

  “What should I do?” asked Bindi. As the youngest, she’d always been the one everyone else took care of, and whenever they were together, it was the role she naturally filled. Or was it that they naturally fell into the role of carer where Bindi was concerned?

  “Maybe you could look over Nan’s books… see how the place is going… you know, financially.”

  Bindi nodded. “Great, I’ll get started as soon as I’ve crushed Reeda.”

  Reeda chuckled. “Good luck with that.”

  Finally done with her stocktake inside the building, Kate stepped outside. An empty saucer sat by the back door; a few drops of milk had spilled where the cat’s tongue had slurped up the bowl’s contents. Mima still didn’t admit to owning the creature and only fed it when she thought no one was looking. Nan hadn’t been a fan of cats and had banned them from the inn because of the way they killed the native wildlife, but Mima never could resist a pair of hungry eyes.

  She held a hand to her forehead to shield her eyes from the glare of the sun. The first place she visited was the garden shed. It crouched dark against the patchy grass of the back lawn. Pandanus trees sprang up around it, branches held aloft like clutching hands. Beside the shed, a long, rectangular fence line marked out the space where Nan had spent so much of her time digging, planting, and tending her garden.

  Kate stepped inside the garden shed. It had dark timber walls, faded by the sun, and rows of tools hung above sacks of fertiliser. Drums of what she knew to be chook food and compost, lined the back wall. She wrote down everything she found, as best she could. There were bags of seeds she couldn’t identify, but most of the items in the shed were recognisable. And it was kept in good order, with everything neatly stacked and hung in its designated place.

  Next, she made her way to the garden and looked out over the neat rows of dirt. Most waiting for the spring planting, some winter crops, like strawberries, onions, and peas, hugged the near end of the enclosure.

  Kate’s hands trembled as she clutched hold of the top of the fence. She half expected to see Nan, back bent as she pushed a trowel into the soft, sandy dirt. She’d straighten, press a hand to the small of her back with a grimace, then wave in Kate’s direction. Only she wasn’t there. A lump formed in Kate’s throat and she swallowed around it.

  The stables were her final stop, and she’d deliberately been putting off her visit. Janet, her horse from childhood, had passed on years ago. Ever since, she’d kept her distance from the stables. Not wanting to grow attached to the newer horses who filled the stables, taking the place of the animals she and her sisters had grown up riding. And besides, she hardly had time to spend with Nan, let alone go riding when she came home to the inn. Still, seeing the timber railings of the yard where she’d first learned to ride atop Janet’s wide, bay back, and the stalls where she’d fed her carrots, oats, or the occasional cube of sugar when Jack wasn’t watching, warmed her heart.

  She’d missed the place more than she’d known.

  Inside Janet’s stall, stood a tall, chestnut mare with a long streak of white down the length of her head. Kate stepped closer and reached up a hand to stroke the animal’s nose.

  “Well, aren’t you beautiful?” she whispered.

  The horse nudged her arm, moving closer for more. Kate laughed, and ran a palm down her sleek neck. “I guess you liked that, huh?”

  “Her name’s Ginger. She’s a biter, although she seems to like you. Is there something I can help you with?” The man’s deep voice startled her.

  She spun around to face him, guilt creeping through her chest. Why she should feel guilty for walking into Nan’s stables wasn’t clear, but something about the way his voice reverberated through the stalls made her feel as though she’d been caught out by the school principal.

  “Uh hi,” she said, extending her hand toward him. “I’m Kate Summer — Nan’s granddaughter. Well, at least, one of them, anyway.”

  The crease lines on his forehead faded, and his lips pulled into a gentle smile. “Ah, right — of course. Pleased to meet you Kate. I’m Alex Cannon, I help Edie out… uh, helped Edie out with the horses.” A flash of grief passed over his face but was gone before Kate could process it. Why had Nan never mentioned him?

  He wore a long-sleeved, blue- and white-checked flannel shirt, with the top few buttons undone, and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A pair of snug, blue jeans hugged a pair of athletic legs and riding boots completed the ensemble. The Akubra hat perched on top of his head was pushed back and his light brown hair stuck up in all directions in front of it, wet with perspiration above a pair of intense, hazel eyes. He held a soiled rag in one hand.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know anyone was out here. I thought Jack was taking care of the horses.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve been doing it for a few years, but I’m not here all the time. Edie said she needed help, and I was looking for some casual work, so…”

  “Maybe she thought it was all a bit much for Jack…”

  He stared at the rag in his hand. “I was oiling the tack.”

  “Well, don’t let me get in your way.”

  He nodded, raised the rag as a kind of wave and disappeared back into the storage room behind the stables. Kate stared after him, her eyes narrowing. She needed more information. After all, nobody had mentioned there was a man working in the stables, taking care of the horses. How had Jack and Mima both managed to gloss over that information?

  She followed him into the storeroom. He stood beside a saddle stand, perched on top of a low bench. As she watched, he dipped the rag into a can and then ran it over the seat of a saddle that was balanced on top of the saddle stand.

  “Um… actually, do you mind if I ask you a few questions? I’m doing a stocktake for the inn, and I thought you might be able to give me some insights about the horses.”

  He shrugged but kept his back to her. “Okay.”

  His wide shoulders almost taunted her. Was he being intentionally rude?

  She inhaled a slow breath. “How many horses do we have on the property?”

  He paused, then spoke over his shoulder. “Four. But one of them is old Zaney, and he’s not really fit for guests to ride these days. Two of the others are getting on in years, and that chestnut you were patting, she’s got a mean streak when it comes to strangers. She’s all sunshine and sugar cubes when she’s in the stable or the paddock, but set a saddle on her back and you’ll find out soon enough how good your seat is… She’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

  Kate frowned. “So, we have four horses, but only two that guests can ride?”

  He nodded.

  “Do we have tack for all four?”

  Another silent nod, as he continued rubbing oil over the rest of the saddle.

  Her lips pursed. It was like pulling teeth to get any information out of the man. “Okay, well thank you.”

  He faced her and crossed muscular arms over his chest. “The stables need work too. They’re practically falling down. I found termites back there in the corner of the storeroom, and it won’t be long before it’ll be dangerous for the horses to stay in the stalls the way some of those boards have come loose.”

  His words had a tone of accusation, as though somehow all of this were Kate’s fault. As though she was the reason the inn was in disrepair.

  She nodded. “That’s good to know. Thank you for your honesty. Unfortunately, I’m not sure what we can do about it right now. We don’t know what the inn’s future looks like, who will own it, whether it’ll be sold or closed… it’s pretty
up in the air, and we don’t have the money to sink into something that might or might not have a future.”

  His face registered understanding. “Oh.”

  “Is there anything you can do for now, you know, to keep things going?”

  He shrugged. “I could do some of the repair work, if you want me to. I have a mate who works construction, he could probably get me timber offcuts.”

  “That would be wonderful. Thank you. I’ll be happy to help out with whatever I can as well… while I’m here.”

  “How long are you planning to be here?” he asked, his hazel eyes fixed on hers.

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. Long enough to take care of everything, I suppose. I have to get back to Brisbane, back to my job and my fiancé.”

  “In that order?” he asked, a twitch in his cheeks, almost like he’d stifled a smile.

  Kate’s eyes narrowed. “No, not in that order.” Now he was being downright rude. He didn’t know her — didn’t know anything about her relationship.

  He held Kate’s gaze for a moment longer, then turned back to the saddle.

  “Okay, well I’ll be here most afternoons. You can come and find me, help out, whatever you like. Doesn’t matter much to me either way. I’ll see what I can do about the repairs.”

  She studied his back, irritation burning in her gut, then marched out of the storeroom. Just before she was out of earshot, she heard him call, “Sorry about your grandmother. She was a real beaut lady.”

  9

  September 1939

  Bathurst

  The Carillon City Music Club will hold their September recital at the Red Rose café on Sunday evening next, and looking over the programme they have on this occasion gathered together a very fine array of artists, so that patrons should enjoy one of best programmes this progressive club have yet submitted to a music loving public (Town Tattle, The Bathurst National Advocate).

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