by Lilly Mirren
“I’ll be here to help, so whatever happens, we’ll handle it,” said Bindi, pulling her nose out of the newspaper spread wide between her hands for a moment.
“Okay, good.” Reeda’s foot kept tapping. “Bindi, don’t forget to pay the painters.”
“I won’t,” replied Bindi, her voice a monotone.
“And the plumber.”
“On it.” Bindi gave Reeda the thumbs up without looking at her.
“We’re all over it like a sand rash on a half-naked surfer,” said Kate.
Reeda shook her head. “Jeez.”
Bindi laughed, then took a bite of cereal. “Have a good time, sis.”
Reeda stood and smoothed her skirt against her toned legs. “I’ve got to get moving, I’ll see you when I get back. Call me, okay?”
Kate embraced her sister and kissed her cheek. “Relax, enjoy some time with your husband. Everything will still be here when you get back.”
Kate watched her leave then scooped the eggs onto pieces of toast, setting the bacon beside them on four plates.
“Mima, Jack, breakfast!” she called.
While they ate, Kate stared out through the kitchen window. White lace curtains framed the window and through the brand-new, sparklingly clean windowpanes she could clearly see the garden shed and Nan’s kitchen-garden.
“Nan’s garden’s looking a bit sad these days,” she said.
Mima nodded, then swallowed a piece of toast. “She worked in that garden almost every day. It takes a lot to keep something like that going. It’s too big now, with no gardeners living at the inn.”
“I can downsize it for you, if you like. Or we could replace the whole thing with sod.” Jack spoke around a mouthful of bacon.
“No, definitely not. I don’t want to get rid of Nan’s garden. I was thinking I might take a look at it today, since Bruno wants us all to make ourselves scarce while they work on the downstairs walls and upstairs bathrooms. Besides, I’ve been wanting to see what I can do to stop that possum from getting in through the fence and eating everything down to the ground. It’s spring, so I thought I should plant some vegetables to get ready for the summer season, but there’s no point with the possum around.”
Jack nodded. “Edie used wire netting, but I think it’s all fallen or been blown out of place.”
“I’m going to take a look, see what I can do.” Now that she’d said the words, Kate was resolved. She’d pull Nan’s garden back into shape. She’d always wanted to grow a kitchen garden so she could use the fresh ingredients in her cooking but living in a unit in the city hadn’t given her the opportunity. Now she had the chance to build as large a garden as she wanted.
The first thing she did was pull on overalls, gumboots, and an old straw hat she’d found hanging on a peg by the back door. She remembered Nan wearing the hat when she worked in the garden, and it felt right to set it on her head, like she was taking on the gardening mantle.
Then, she stepped through the gate and paced up and down the narrow pathways Nan had built into the rectangular space. Most of the produce had died away to only wisps of brown stems, or shrivelled leaves. Some parts of the garden had been cleared, tilled, and prepared for the winter months before Nan died. And a few of the evergreen flowers and bushes along the back rows of the garden were sagging, the soil around them hard and washed away in places.
She spotted Nan’s waratah trees almost immediately. The brilliant red flowers were partially hidden beneath a mesh netting that’d fallen over them. She remembered Nan hanging it above the bushes to keep them sheltered from the harsh, summer sun, but it’d fallen and now smothered the plants.
Kate tugged on a pair of gloves and set to work freeing the bushes. Soon, the striking flowers were exposed and reaching skyward. Kate smiled, setting her hands on her hips to admire them. Nan loved those plants. She’d named the inn after them since she’d brought the plants with her and Pop when they moved from Bathurst. They were the first thing she’d planted when they moved in, and she cared for them like they were her children.
Kate wondered if Nan thought of Charlie Jackson when she looked at those flowers or walked through the doors of the inn. Waratahs were special to her, that much was clear enough. But were they special because of Charlie? How could she spend all those years of her life with Pop, when her heart belonged to Charlie?
Kate still hadn’t finished reading the journal entries. She told herself it was because she’d been busy with the renovations, or spending time with Alex in the afternoons and on weekends. But the truth was, she was reluctant to keep reading.
It hurt to think of the pain Nan went through, knowing her baby’s father had been shot down, most likely killed in action. Believing she’d never be able to raise the child as her own. Nan had called her son Keith; Kate’s father’s name. Kate knew now that Charlie was her biological grandfather. She wondered if Dad had known — she didn’t think so. She couldn’t remember him saying anything about it and was sure he would’ve if he’d known. Or maybe he wanted to keep it from them. It wasn’t likely she’d ever discover the truth now.
Besides that, sometimes it felt as though she were peering through the curtains into Nan’s life. She shouldn’t do it, shouldn’t keep prying that way. Nan kept a lot of secrets from them, from all of them. It didn’t seem right, since some of those secrets had a lot to do with the family, but for some reason Nan had chosen to do it. And she should respect Nan’s wishes.
Once the waratah trees were free, she got to work tearing down all the netting that’d either disintegrated from the weather or had been blown free of the garden beds. Then, she pulled weeds. After three hours of back breaking work, she sat on her rear end in the dust to guzzle water from a drink bottle she’d brought outside with her. She knew she should really go in search of some food, but that would mean standing up and walking and she didn’t have the energy for either.
As if reading her mind, Bindi emerged from the back door and headed in Kate’s direction, a white plate in her hands.
“I hope that’s food, or I might eat you,” called Kate as Bindi pushed through the gate.
Bindi laughed. “I brought you a sandwich. I’m afraid it’s not gourmet, the way you’d make it, but it’s the best I could do.”
“Thank you.” Kate took the plate, set it on her lap and began eating. The tuna and salad sandwich was what she needed, and when she was done Bindi pulled two plums out of her jeans pockets and handed one to Kate. The other she bit into, letting the juice drip down her chin.
“How’s it going out here?” asked Bindi.
Kate shrugged. “It’s taking a lot longer than I thought. But look, Nan’s waratahs are flowering.”
Bindi grinned. “Wow, those things bring back memories.”
“I know. For some reason it makes me feel good to see something of Nan’s like that, and they’re still going strong.”
“How long do you think Reeda’s going to stick around for?” asked Bindi suddenly.
“I’m not sure. Why?”
“Don’t you think it’s strange that she’s staying? I mean, she’s planning on coming back north in two days and her husband lives in Sydney. She’s been here for months and barely talks about him, or about going home.”
She had a point.
“It’s a bit odd, that’s true. Do you think something’s wrong?”
Bindi sighed. “I don’t know. I’ve never been married, but from what I understand, married couples usually try to live in the same state.”
“I know Duncan works a lot.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right. Still…”
“What about you?” asked Kate.
Bindi’s cheeks flushed pink. “What about me?”
“Is everything okay with you?”
Bindi’s green eyes met Kate’s then she stared at the ground in front of her. “I lost my job.”
“What?”
“That’s why I wanted to stay here,” continued Bindi. “Why I didn’t want us to se
ll the inn.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
Bindi shrugged. “I was embarrassed. You guys always talk about how proud of me you are with my big career in television journalism, and now it’s over.”
“It’s not over. You’ll get another job… if you want to. I mean, you can stay here and run the inn, if that’s your dream, but don’t give up on your dream for this.”
Bindi’s eyes filled with tears and she shook her head. “No, I won’t get another job. There aren’t any jobs going at the moment, and I’ve interviewed dozens of times. There are rumours that the industry is changing, they won’t need as many journalists, and maybe they’re downsizing because of it. But I was out of work for six months before Nan died.”
Kate reached out and held Bindi’s hand. She squeezed it. “I’m so sorry, Bindi. I didn’t know.”
Bindi wiped the tears from her eyes. “It’s not your fault. I should’ve said something. I’m kicking myself that I didn’t pack up and come home to the inn sooner. I could’ve spent that time with Nan instead of trekking up and down the streets of Melbourne looking for work.”
“And what about Brendan? I’ve been wanting to ask you about him, but you didn’t seem like you wanted to talk about it.”
Bindi sighed. “We’re taking a break.”
“What does that mean?” asked Kate.
“He wants some space to think about his life, about us,” replied Bindi with a smirk. “That was about a month before Nan passed. So, when I moved to Cabarita, it was as though it was meant to be.”
“Do you think you two will patch things up? You’ve been together a long time.”
“Too long,” replied Bindi.
“Sorry?”
“He didn’t want to marry me. We talked about it and he always diverted the conversation to another topic. We’ve been dating for six years and he doesn’t want to get married. I should’ve known something was wrong years ago. I just thought he was taking his time.”
“So, it’s over?”
“I don’t know. I guess we’ll see. But for now, yes, it’s over.”
Kate stood with a grunt, then wrapped her arms around Bindi and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head the way she had when they were kids. “It’s all going to be okay,” she said.
Bindi sobbed against her overalls as she wrapped her arms around Kate’s shoulders.
When Kate found Alex in the storeroom behind the stables that afternoon, she crept up behind him and surprised him by sliding her arms around his waist without speaking. When he spun to face her, she pressed her lips to his, as his eyes flew wide.
“Good to see you,” she whispered.
He laughed. “You too. You can surprise me like that any time you want.”
She let him go and wandered over to Ginger who stood in her stall munching hay. Kate ran her hand down the length of the horse’s face. “So, I guess we should get to know each other better,” she began.
He grunted. “I guess so. What did you have in mind?”
“Music. What kind do you like?”
He chuckled, leaned back against the stable wall, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Nirvana, Pearl Jam… the usual suspects. How about you?”
“The Cranberries, of course, and Tracey Chapman. But I don’t mind a bit of Lenny Kravitz either.”
“Huh, different,” he said.
She nodded. “I’m a different kind of girl.”
“What was your first tape?” he asked.
She frowned, thinking back. “I think it was Johnny Farnham, but Mum and Dad bought it for me for my birthday, so not really my taste.”
“He does have a good voice,” replied Alex with quirked eyebrows.
“Very true. What about your first tape?”
He shrugged. “Pink Floyd.”
“Wow. Good taste.” She smiled, head nodding. “I’m glad, otherwise I don’t think it would’ve worked out between us.”
He laughed. “Oh really? My taste in music is that important to you?”
She took a step toward him, reached for his shirt, and tugged him close. “Very important. I have to know what kind of man you are, and nothing says that more than the music you listen to.”
“What about the car I drive?” he asked.
She shrugged. “I don’t care about your car.”
“Good. Because it’s old and ready to break down at any moment.”
Kate laughed, pushed up on her toes to kiss him. Her heart thudded against her rib cage and tingles ran up and down her body. As he wrapped his arms around her, she melted against him.
25
December 1981
Pennant Hills
Kate stood on tiptoe, trying to reach the angel that perched on the tip of their perfectly green, perfectly fake Christmas tree. They’d tried using a live fir tree the Christmas she was five years old, but it’d been such a dry summer that the tree was a crackling brown by the time Christmas Day rolled around and Mum had deemed it too much of a fire hazard to keep in the house. So, it’d sat outside in the yard gathering dust, dew, and the occasional bird poop.
This fake tree was pushed into the corner of the rumpus room in front of the psychedelic, swirling brown and green wallpaper, beside the record player with all its records stashed upright, the black vinyl peeking through the slits, and wedged beside the bookcase holding their entire set of Encyclopaedia Britannica, a collection Dad was so proud of. Kate loved to sit by his side on their emerald green, woollen couch, and flick through the pages of one of the volumes. Perhaps they’d start with the letter P and read all about penguins, or the letter L and travel to Lithuania for half an hour.
She huffed and hoisted herself a little higher in her Converse shoes, reached the angel and tugged it down with a victory shout.
The angel’s dress was falling off and she’d seen it every time she walked by the tree. It’d been bugging her for days. She straightened the dress, then poked her tongue out the corner of her mouth as she worked to set it back in place.
“You fixed her dress?” asked Mum, coming in behind her.
Kate nodded.
“Thank heavens. It was driving me nuts.” Mum laughed and looped her arms around Kate from behind, hugging her tight.
“So, what’d you get me?” asked Kate, studying the brightly wrapped gifts beneath the tree.
“I finally got that Barbie Dream House you asked for when you were six.”
Kate rolled her eyes and spun to face Mum. “Thanks, exactly what every fourteen-year-old girl wants.”
Mum grinned. “Come on, you can admit it to me — you’d love a Dream House. Wouldn’t you?”
Kate couldn’t deny it. She’d always wanted one, and though she knew most girls her age were over the Barbie craze, she still played with her dolls when no one else was around.
“Fine, just don’t tell anyone,” she said.
Mum laughed and drew a cross over her heart with a fingertip. “Your secret is safe.”
“Where’s Dad?” asked Kate.
“He’s sleeping off the turkey he ate at lunch. Of course, he’ll never admit he wants to take a nap so he’s sitting upright in the lounge room…”
Kate loved Christmas Day, especially when Nan and Pop came all the way from Cabarita Beach to visit. They brought the kookiest gifts with them and were so much fun. Mum and Dad had to cook, clean, and do so many things around the house all the time, but Nan and Pop gave the three girls their undivided attention.
Nan buzzed into the rumpus room with Pop, Reeda, and Bindi in her wake. “Who wants to play Scrabble?” she cried.
Kate smiled. “I do.”
Mum nodded. “Sure, I’ll join you as soon as I finish cleaning up in the kitchen. Then I have to get the potato casserole in the oven…”
Kate huffed. “Come on Mum, can’t all that wait? You never play…”
Mum seemed to grapple with the pull of the dirty dishes for a moment, then smiled. “Okay, sure I’ll play a game. But then…”
“Then you have to wash the dishes.” Kate rolled her eyes.
“And for that, Missy, you can dry…”
“Fine,” Kate grumbled.
“Come on, grab a seat,” said Pop. He patted the chair next to him and Kate slumped into it.
He offered her a sideways hug. “Come on Pumpkin, you can be on my team. Let’s slaughter these suckers.”
She grinned, her spirits rising. “They haven’t got a chance.”
He laughed, his green eyes twinkling.
In the lounge room, Dad coughed. He poked his head into the rumpus room. “Scrabble?”
“Yes! You wanna play?” asked Bindi, jumping up and down in place.
She was such a child. Kate rolled her eyes again.
“I’d love to. I’m going to grab a drink first. Who wants eggnog?”
December 1995
Cabarita Beach
Kate tapped a red and gold ornament with her fingernail. It hung from one branch of the Christmas tree that decorated the newly refurbished sitting room at the Waratah Inn. She studied it, then took a step back to look at the entire tree. It was decorated with a subtle mixing of reds, golds and white. It had Reeda’s handiwork written all over it.
Kate would’ve chosen an eclectic mix of classic, modern, pretty, and humorous ornaments, then covered the whole thing in colourful, twinkle lights. But Reeda’s decorating was stylish, tasteful, and understated. Just like Reeda herself.
A large bag hung from Kate’s arm, piled high with gifts. She pulled one out, wrapped in blue and red with small, red Santas all over it, and pushed it gently beneath the tree, beside the stack of gifts already waiting there. One by one, she placed her gifts beneath the tree, then folded the bag and set it on a side table.
“When my heart finds Christmas” played softly in the background. Bindi had hooked the CD player in the office up to the new sound system, with speakers in the various downstairs rooms, including the dining room, sitting room, and breakfast nook. Harry Connick Junior’s sultry tones soothed her spirits. It was their first Christmas without Nan. She kissed her fingertips and pressed them to a framed photograph of Nan that stood on the side table.