One Summer Between Friends

by Trish Morey

  10

  It didn’t matter how many times Sarah flew into Lord Howe Island, the sight of that tiny jewel appearing as the plane slipped through a hole in the clouds never got old. Even today, when she couldn’t help but think about what might be waiting for her when she got there, the sight of the island’s cloud-topped mountains and ridges curling almost possessively around its turquoise lagoon, all fringed with the white lace of crashing waves, inspired a kind of pride. She’d been born here, right there in the tiny hospital on that speck of an island, in the days before pregnant women were dispatched early to the mainland to deliver their babies.

  Maybe it wasn’t her choice to be going home today, but there was no stopping the tug on her heartstrings, nor the message it carried, which mocked her as if to say, And you thought you could stay away?

  All around her, heads craned for a better glimpse of their island-paradise destination as the plane descended. Sarah sat back in her seat and supposed it was a kind of paradise—if you weren’t descending into the tangled remnants of your past. She thought about the last time she’d felt this nervous approaching the island. She’d been at university and was bringing Richard home for Easter. She’d already told everyone all about Richard and how amazing he was and how she knew they would love him as much as she did. And while Floss and Andy had immediately absorbed Richard into their little group as though he’d always been part of it, Jules had surprised her. From the start, she’d been cool and standoffish, like she was weighing Richard up and constantly finding fault. Challenging his opinions. Snidely putting him down every chance she got.

  Not that Richard had done himself any favours. He’d never been a shrinking violet and he was always up for a challenge. If anything, he delighted in baiting Jules. They’d rubbed each other up the wrong way from the beginning.

  And yet Sarah had persisted, because both of them were special to her and sooner or later Jules would see, just like Floss and Andy had, that Richard was okay, and once she relented, Sarah was sure he would too.

  She pulled the strap of her seat belt tighter, her lip curling. They’d relented all right.

  Six months, she told herself. Maybe even less if her mother behaved herself and did her exercises religiously. Meanwhile she’d scour the online job agencies and put out some feelers and find herself a new job to go to when she was done.

  Six months. She could do that. It wasn’t as if it was a life sentence.

  Sam was waiting for her at the airport, and he wrapped her in a bear hug as soon as she passed the gate into the arrivals area. ‘You, girl,’ he said, ‘are a sight for sore eyes.’

  ‘Funny,’ she said, giving him a squeeze back. ‘You only got back a couple of days ago yourself. How’s Mum?’

  ‘Cranky as all get out.’ His weathered face broke into a grin. ‘Situation normal.’

  She laughed and planted a kiss on his cheek. ‘Come on, let’s go grab my bag.’

  He filled her in on how Dot was getting on with her exercises (‘You’ll notice she’s cursing a lot more than usual’) and her walker (‘She calls it Frankenstein—but don’t ask me who’s the real monster’) while chatting to a couple of locals as they waited: the bus driver who’d come to pick up guests for Sullivan’s and a member of the island board who’d been to Sydney for a meeting. Sarah knew them, if only vaguely, and was happy for her dad to do all the talking. She was too busy scanning faces for others she recognised. It was a tiny island, she knew, but the airport was public. Anyone could be here. Her palms were sweaty and she all but pounced on her bag when the luggage trolley finally arrived.

  It was only when they got out to the car park that she started to relax. The air was cool and crisp here, the smell of avgas left behind, and Sarah sucked its freshness into her lungs. Wow. She’d forgotten how sweet this air was, so different from Sydney’s, the air flavoured with sea spray and lush vegetation grown in rich volcanic soils. Then she got a whiff of something else, and smiled as her eyes found the cows grazing across the road. That was something else that made this place unique.

  ‘You right to go?’ Sam Rooney asked, tossing her bag into the tray of his battered ute.

  ‘Ready when you are.’

  ‘Only I got the impression you were looking for someone.’

  She pulled at the door handle. Had she been that obvious? ‘Making sure the coast is clear, more like.’

  He climbed into the driver’s seat, put his hands over the wheel and sighed. ‘Jeepers, Sarah, is it that much of a problem being back?’

  She smiled tightly and pushed her hair behind her ears. ‘There are some people I’m in no hurry to catch up with, yeah. One in particular. You can probably guess who that is.’

  Her father blew out a long breath, the air whistling tunelessly through his teeth, before he scratched his head and turned to her. ‘I’m sorry, love, if coming home is causing you grief. In a way, I guess I was kind of hoping …’

  ‘Hoping what?’

  ‘That things might sort themselves out, given a bit of time back on the island.’

  She suspected what was coming, but still she had to ask, ‘What “things”?’

  He shrugged. ‘With Jules and Floss.’

  Sarah snorted.

  ‘Only … you were all such good friends once. And I don’t know all the ins and outs of everything that happened, but seeing you’re back on the island, it’d be a good chance to maybe mend a few bridges.’

  ‘I thought the ins and outs were pretty obvious, given the little bundle that Jules popped out.’ Sarah made no attempt to disguise the bitterness infusing her voice.

  Sam gave a gruff cough. ‘Right. Well, there is that. Even so, Richard’s no longer in the picture, is he?’

  Her breath caught in her throat, and she wondered if there would ever come a time when she didn’t feel that sudden stop-start hitch in her chest. She knew Richard was dead. She knew she’d lost him even before the game fishing boat had gone down and taken him and Jules’s father to their watery grave. And yet every time someone mentioned it, it was like hearing the news all over again, when she’d forgotten for one instant everything that had happened, other than that he was once her husband and that he was gone. A time capsule that vomited out its pain and disbelief and incomprehensibility every time the lid was cracked open.

  ‘It still doesn’t change what happened.’

  ‘No, nothing can change that. But maybe, instead of hiding away—’

  ‘I’m not hiding. I’m here, aren’t I?’

  ‘Okay, so now you’re here, instead of trying to avoid Jules, maybe try talking to her?’

  She crossed her arms. ‘Dad, I just got off the plane. Don’t make me climb out of this car and get right back on.’

  He held up a hand in surrender and turned the key in the ignition with the other, as if he feared she might do just that. ‘All right. All right. It was just an idea. A daft idea, maybe. But I care about you, love, and I hate that being back home causes you heartache.’

  ‘Which is why I’m not keen on piling on more.’

  ‘All I know is that there’s wrongs been done, and if nobody talks to each other, nothing’s ever going to change, and nothing’s ever going to be resolved.’

  ‘Enough, Dad,’ she warned. ‘You’ve said your piece. Enough.’

  He reached over and patted her leg. ‘You’re right, lovey.’ He put the ute in gear and pulled out of the car park.

  Sarah exhaled, letting go of at least a little of her tension. It was weird being back. The same but different. Colours seemed brighter, more intense. It could have just been that she’d been in the big smoke too long and grown used to the concrete and glass jungle of the city. Then again, it could be the knot pulling tight in her belly that was working to heighten her senses.

  What was going on behind the palm-lined roads? Had the news of her homecoming spread? Lord Howe Island was like a country town, with all the benefits and foibles that came with that. Word got around pretty fast. Did Floss and Sarah know
she was coming? Were they sensing the foundations of their world starting to shudder a little?

  They wouldn’t be delighted by the news, she knew that much.

  A police ute topped with red and blue lights passed them going the other way. Her dad gave the driver a two-finger salute and the officer acknowledged him with a nod of his head and a wave.

  ‘New copper?’ Sarah asked, not recognising the dark-skinned man at the wheel.

  Sam gave a quick shake of his head as he changed down gears and turned the car away from the lagoon and up a steepish hill. Tourists on rented bikes passed them going the other way, free-wheeling down. ‘Not for long. Barry’s on three months’ long-service leave so we’ve got ourselves a locum. Noah something’s his name. Been here a couple of weeks now. Seems to be fitting in all right.’

  ‘He looks nice,’ she said.

  Sam looked her way. ‘I hear on the grapevine he’s not married.’

  ‘Jeez, Dad,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t come here to find a man. I think I’m over men.’

  ‘I hope that doesn’t apply to your old man.’

  She smiled and said, ‘Of course not.’

  It was Sam’s turn to smile as he steered the ute into the store’s car park. The shop was exactly as Sarah remembered it, the squat timber building with the adjoining house behind hunkered down against a background of graceful kentia palms.

  ‘So, how’s business?’

  ‘Reasonably quiet,’ he said. ‘But then, it’s winter. Should pick up come September.’

  She nodded. Winter was the off-season, when tourists were thinner on the ground. It never got really cold, but the weather was less reliable, more prone to storms and winds, and less appealing for beachgoers and tourists wanting to climb the island’s many walking tracks. That’s if the changeable weather let them get to the island at all—tourists waiting on the mainland had been known to miss their entire holidays due to the wacky weather, the lucky ones being those stuck on the island and forced to ring their bosses to say they couldn’t get back to work. Nobody ever seemed to mind when it worked out that way.

  ‘Given that’s the case,’ her dad said, ‘I’m thinking that running the shop should be a doddle for a bright girl like you. You should even manage a bit of a holiday while you’re here. Reckon you’re probably owed one.’

  Wasn’t that the truth? Not that she couldn’t think of a dozen other places in the world she’d choose to visit first. But Sarah threw him a smile and spared a thought for her useless brother. Danny could have handled a doddle if he ever bothered to get off his behind to do something for someone else. Even their mother would have known that.

  She climbed out of the car, noticing the signs in the windows advertising fresh fish and vegetables—the same signs that had been there since she was a child. ‘Not much has changed lately, then?’

  ‘You know what your mother thinks about change,’ Sam said, fishing in the tray for her bag. ‘If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.’

  Sarah recited the mantra along with her father and they both laughed, until her dad clapped a hand on her shoulder and said, ‘Oh, Sarah love, it is good having you home. I’m sorry if it’s going to cause you any grief.’

  ‘It’s okay, Dad,’ she said, injecting her voice with as much confidence as she could muster. ‘I’m a big girl now. I can’t run away from my past forever.’ Much as I’d like to.

  ‘That’s the spirit.’ He gestured towards the building. ‘Come on in and reacquaint yourself with the shop, and then we’ll go out back and see how your mum’s getting on. She was having a nap when I left.’

  Stepping into the store was like stepping into the past. Nothing had changed inside either. Not the tinkle above the door, not the all-pervasive scent, a mix of washing powder and candle wax, spices and a sugar hit, courtesy of the bags of mixed lollies that graced the counter. Wooden shelves still lined the walls, wooden shelves she’d grown up with that still bore packets of dried fruit or flour or tins of tomatoes or spaghetti sauce. It was like being transported back in time.

  ‘It hasn’t changed inside either,’ she said, more delighted than surprised, spinning around, taking it all in.

  ‘I guess it all seems a bit old fashioned to you,’ said Sam, ‘with all the fancy supermarkets you’re used to in the big smoke.’

  ‘Coming!’ they heard from the store room out the back, and then Deirdre’s head poked out. ‘Oh, you’re here!’ She bounded down the stairs in a way that probably wasn’t wise for an ample sixty-something woman if they were the same stairs that had brought Dot undone. But there was no time to utter a caution before Sarah felt herself enveloped in a squishy hug that felt like being wrapped in a feather doona.

  ‘It’s so good you could come,’ Deirdre said. ‘You’re a life saver. You have no idea how much we all appreciate it.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Sarah said, not sure how to disentangle herself.

  It was Deidre who relented and let go, her chubby-fingered hands immediately going to Sarah’s shoulders to look at her. ‘But it’s not just that,’ she said, her fingers squeezing. ‘It’s so good to have you home.’

  Sarah returned the smile, unexpectedly touched and just as unexpectedly feeling crappy that she’d had to be dragged all but kicking and screaming back to the island. ‘It’s good to be home,’ she said, and strangely, it wasn’t all a lie. She had enough happy memories of her years on the island that part of her would always belong here. It was just a shame that other memories had come along to get in the way.

  ‘Deirdre’s just about to become a grandmother again,’ Sam said, watching from where he leaned one hip against the counter. ‘That’ll make three now, hey, Dee?’

  The older woman blinked apologetic eyes and pressed her lips tightly together as she gazed into Sarah’s face. She knew Sarah’s history. She understood the despair and desperation that came with being unable to bear a child. Her Tammy had miscarried twice before she’d managed to have her first baby—Sarah had chatted with Tammy about it on one of her visits when their families had got together for a fish fry. And Tammy had understood better than anyone the depth of the hurt you felt every time you saw a pregnant woman or a baby or received yet another invitation for a baby shower.

  There weren’t many people who understood that level of loss, that level of grief. Even your best friend, who’d chosen to remain childless, could listen and lend a shoulder, but still had no concept.

  Then Tammy had succeeded where Sarah hadn’t and they hadn’t spoken since. And now she was just about to have her third …

  So bloody unfair!

  Dee squeezed her shoulders. ‘All right, love?’

  Sarah forced a smile and nodded. That was the way it was. It wasn’t as if her dad had said or done anything wrong, it was just that one innocent remark, one tiny reminder could make a bone-deep hurt well up. A hurt she was doing her best to come to terms with, but one she knew would never let her go.

  ‘That’s wonderful news, Dee,’ she said, willing her voice not to crack, because it was wonderful news and she was truly happy for the girl. ‘Please pass on my congratulations.’

  The other woman’s face creased as she pulled Sarah into another hug.

  Don’t cry, Sarah told herself, clamping down on her throat and forcing back the tears. Don’t cry! Still, a couple of tears squeezed out. Sarah brushed them away as inconsequentially as she could, listening to Deirdre filling her in on where the shop was with regard to stock and showing her the exact same order book system that Sarah remembered using when she worked in the store as a high school student.

  And as Sarah listened, she thought that maybe her time here wouldn’t be wasted, that maybe things weren’t completely ‘broke’, but that she could streamline operations, or at least bring them into the twenty-first century. She might as well spend her six months here constructively.

  After Sarah was brought up to date, Deirdre shooed them off with a final hug to check on Dot. ‘Y
ou don’t know how happy your mother is to have you home.’

  ‘She is?’ asked Sarah.

  Deirdre smiled benevolently, her hands clasped before her, and Sarah thought Deirdre would have made the perfect nun in another life. ‘She doesn’t like to be too effusive, of course,’ Deirdre said, ‘but I can tell how delighted she is.’

  A perfect nun, and a good friend to Dot. Sarah just smiled and promised to report at eight am the next day, ready to begin work.

  Halfway through the door that connected to the house, Sam hesitated. ‘I’m sorry for what I said back there, about Tammy and the baby,’ he said. ‘It just came out. It was clumsy. I didn’t think.’

  Sarah smiled, even though it was yet another tiny needle to her heart. ‘It’s okay, Dad. I really don’t want people to be walking on eggshells around me for the rest of my life. It’s just something I have to learn to deal with.’

  He nodded as if he understood before he turned and kept walking. But he didn’t understand, she knew. Nobody could understand unless they’d been there.

  Dot Rooney was sitting up in bed doing a crossword when Sarah and Sam found her. Sam kissed his wife’s head. ‘Look who I found,’ he said.

  ‘Hello, Mum.’

  ‘Ah, here she is.’ Dot allowed Sarah to kiss her cheek before she said, ‘Deirdre’s been frantic about when you were going to arrive.’

  ‘Oh, she didn’t seem too worried just now.’

  ‘What? You’ve talked to her?’

  Sam looked apologetic. ‘We called by the shop on the way.’

  ‘Well, take it from me, Deirdre’s been worried sick.’ Dot smiled at her daughter. Not the full-blown smile she’d thrown a doctor or physio or even the tea lady on their first visit, but it was a smile nonetheless. ‘She wouldn’t want to show it, of course, not in person. But you’re here now, and that’s the main thing.’