Finding Love at Mermaid Terrace

by Kate Forster

  ‘Ah yes,’ he said, ‘Pamela told me. I remember now. But your friend came here from Australia, yes?’

  Penny paused. ‘Yes… he came to meet our daughter and to see me again. He saw the show.’

  ‘And so now you are happily ever after like Juliet and me.’ He smiled as he spoke.

  ‘Did Juliet come and find you?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, she waited for me and I waited for her. An acte de foi.’

  Penny wasn’t sure what that meant. Remi caught her look and shrugged. ‘How you say? A leap of faith.’

  Remi went across to the area where the postal bags and boxes were and measured the bag against them for size. Was Paul coming to see her a leap of faith? Why was she so angry still?

  ‘Remi?’ she called, and he turned to her.

  ‘Oui?’ She liked the way he said yes in his language. She smiled at him.

  ‘Do you ever get angry about all the time you lost in prison? Angry with the man attacking Juliet and you losing so much?’

  He picked up a large postal bag and came to the counter.

  ‘I always focused on getting out. But I didn’t know I would be in Port Lowdy. Sometimes, though, the prison can be your mind.’

  Remi put the items, all carefully wrapped, into the post bag and wrote on the front. He handed it back to Penny to weigh.

  ‘For Juliet,’ she said, reading the front.

  ‘She is back in London, so I send her some little things she likes. It is nice to have a surprise sometimes, non?’

  Penny nodded, her heart racing as she handed Remi his change for the post.

  ‘I have to go for my shift. À bientôt,’ he said, with a wave.

  Penny waved back.

  It was hard to try and reconcile that her parents had interfered with her life, based on what Paul had said about the letters. She had searched the house again and her father’s old papers but there was nothing that showed any reference to Paul.

  The post office phone rang and she picked it up.

  ‘Port Lowdy Post Office, can I assist you?’

  ‘Mum. Why don’t you ever answer your mobile phone?’

  ‘I’m working. It’s upstairs,’ she said, flicking some dust from the top of the register with a tissue.

  ‘I emailed you something. You need to see it. I’m sending it to the office email account. Can you open it?’

  Penny clicked on the post office computer and opened her email. An email from Tegan was flashing in the inbox.

  She opened the email. ‘Read the attachment, Mum,’ Tegan said.

  Penny double clicked it and saw handwriting that made her heart sink.

  It was a scanned image of a notebook page, with her father’s handwriting.

  To Paul Murphy,

  Please stop writing to my daughter Penelope. She is not interested in hearing from you or pursuing any sort of connection. She has instructed me to write to you to tell you such and furthermore…

  ‘What is this?’ she asked Tegan, trying to make sense of what was on the screen.

  ‘I remembered all the boxes of old writing paper that you had when you cleaned out Pa’s papers. Boxes of it and I kept it because there were stamps and old envelopes and ribbons and all sorts of treasures that a girl wanted. There were a few half-written letters. I never read them till now because I didn’t go through all of them. The papers have just been in the box on top of my wardrobe but then I went through them and there it was. He did write to you, Mum. Your dad lied to you.’

  Penny didn’t say anything to Tegan. She just hung up the phone and then dialled Rosemary March.

  ‘Rosemary, man the fort. I’m off to Australia.’

  She put down the phone and clapped her hands.

  Little Miss Crab was finally coming out of her shell!

  43

  Ginger Pickles was gazing at Tressa with disdain from her vantage point on the top of the fridge.

  ‘What?’ Tressa asked of the cat, but was ignored for her troubles. Ginger was decidedly disappointed with Tressa’s time away from her and having to put up with the small cat next door and Janet, who seemed to be less willing now to feed her five times a day.

  Dan walked into the house balancing a box of groceries, a paper under his arm, and a bunch of daffodils, which he waved at her. Richie trotted in behind him.

  ‘These are from the woman at the gift shop. She sends her best wishes for healing.’

  Tressa nodded. ‘That’s nice. She’s lovely.’

  ‘I picked up Richie from Penny. She’s going to Australia. Isn’t that lovely? To see her fella.’

  Richie came and sat at her feet, looking forlorn.

  ‘Richie is very sorry, he wants you to know,’ said Dan.

  ‘I can tell,’ she said and reached out and patted his big solid head. ‘Seagulls and you are a deep and real issue. You need therapy.’

  Dan laughed as he unpacked the groceries. She lay sprawled on the sofa. Her mind wanted her to help but she felt so tired, she thought she might be sick.

  Coming home wasn’t as exciting as she’d thought it would be. The house didn’t feel like it normally did, as though the arguments between her and Wendy, and her and Dan, had settled in all the corners and were judging her.

  ‘How about a cup of tea? I have some nice treats from the bakery that will put the colour back in your cheeks.’

  He was so kind and she was so awful, she thought. She didn’t deserve anyone like Dan – no wonder her mother struggled to love her. She burst into tears.

  ‘Oh no, what’s happened? You don’t want tea? I could get you a whisky but I drank it all, which is why we had a big fight and also because I was being a total eejit but, Tressie, my darling, don’t cry.’

  Which of course made her cry more.

  ‘I want a shower and I want to go to bed,’ she said and cradled her arm in its cast. ‘But I left the thing at Mum’s to put around my cast to stop it getting wet. She kicked me out because she hates me.’

  Dan was sitting next to her on the sofa now and he put his arm around her.

  ‘She doesn’t hate you, she’s just not good at showing you how she feels. She’s complicated, like her daughter. And as for the shower, she put the things in the bag – you just didn’t look. So I can help you wrap up your arm and then run you a lovely shower. I will change your sheets and have the bed all ready for you when you get out, okay?’

  Tressa nodded, feeling like a child. She so desperately needing to be looked after.

  ‘You don’t have to do this for me,’ she whispered.

  ‘I do. It was my bloody dog that caused this mess, and besides, I want to do it.’

  Later when Tressa had managed to shower – washing her hair with one hand, which was harder than she’d thought it would be – she put on a soft fresh clean nightgown and slipped into the clean sheets that Dan had put on the bed.

  Dan came into the bedroom, a cup of tea in hand and a little plate of biscuits.

  ‘Something to soothe you,’ he said. Then he pulled the paper from under his arm and put it on her lap. ‘And the latest edition of The Port Lowdy Occurrence.’

  ‘Oh God, I thought you would have just missed an edition with everything going on.’ She picked up the paper and looked at the front page.

  ‘Mrs Duncleaver did it again, I see.’ She gazed at the photo of the chocolate hat on the round-faced woman.

  ‘Yes, but I had to take the photo quickly or she would have looked like Augustus Gloop when he is covered in chocolate. The photos aren’t good like yours but they get the job done.’

  Tressa laughed. ‘Last year she wore the crucifixion on her head, made out of polymer clay. The vicar wasn’t impressed and she didn’t place. Clearly she has taken the feedback on board and turned it into something more palatable, as it were.’

  ‘A crucifixion? On her head?’ Dan roared with laughter.

  ‘Yes, on top of the hill of Golgotha, which was very detailed.’

  ‘Golgotha – is that the name for
it?’ He was crying with laughter.

  ‘You’re a good Irish Catholic. I thought you would know that.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t go to church as much as you would think and no Sunday school either. I am a bad Catholic.’ He wiped his eyes, standing at the foot of the bed.

  Tressa turned the page. ‘Oh, look at Primmy at the egg hunt. She’s a doll.’ Flicking through the pages, she saw the boat named Lady Caro and touched the photo. ‘This is perfect.’

  Looking up at Dan, she smiled. ‘You must have worked so hard to do all this by yourself, how did you do it all? Writing, editing, designing, photos, and all the ads?’

  ‘It kept me busy and my mind off worrying about you,’ he said, and she looked down at the paper again.

  ‘I’m okay,’ she said.

  ‘Now, but you weren’t and it’s my right to worry.’

  He was right. They were silent for a moment. ‘Well, I should push off and let you rest. I’ve fed Ginger and topped up her water.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ she asked, worrying about him now.

  ‘I’ll sleep at the office,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Then I can have Richie with me.’

  ‘The office,’ Tressa heard herself almost screech. ‘You’re not staying in the office. You can sleep on the sofa – it’s very comfortable – and Richie can stay in his bed in the kitchen.’

  ‘Tressa, I can’t stay here.’ He made a face at her that made her want to kiss him.

  ‘I need help; you need a place to stay. We can be grown-ups about this – can’t we? Whatever happened between us happened and now we can just move on and be adults.’

  Dan sat at the foot of the bed. ‘I don’t know how to fix this, Tressa. I don’t think I can. But I will stay until you’re well, and George is back.’

  ‘Perhaps we were too fast with everything. I mean we want different things, don’t we?’ she said carefully.

  Dan looked ahead to the window. ‘Oh, I don’t know about that. I don’t know what I want, really. I’m a bit of a mess.’

  Tressa didn’t look at him. He didn’t want her – that much was clear.

  ‘I’m tired,’ she said.

  ‘Okay, sorry. I’ll be here when you wake up.’ He closed the door behind him and Tressa lay in the bed looking at the ceiling.

  She realised that neither of them knew what they wanted and sometimes love just wasn’t enough.

  44

  The plane landed smoothly and Penny breathed out very slowly. Surely she hadn’t been holding her breath for the last twenty-four hours? But it wasn’t the flying that caused her to hold her breath so tightly inside; it was the idea of seeing Paul. A thousand scenarios ran through her head.

  What if he was lying to her and his wife was still alive? What if his children hated her? What if she didn’t like Brisbane? So many what-ifs, her mind could barely keep up.

  ‘You okay, Mum?’ Primmy was asleep between them and Penny turned to her daughter, filled with gratitude that she had a travel companion.

  ‘Whatever happens, Mum, and whatever the outcome with Paul, we can still see some of Australia and show Primmy some of the wildlife and the beaches there. I mean that’s pretty great, and we have never had a holiday together – so that’s something.’

  Thinking back, Penny realised it was true. She never took time off from the post office, even though she could have if she had wanted to. She told herself that the post needed her but really she needed the post. It gave her a sense of purpose, especially after Tegan left for university.

  ‘Welcome to Brisbane, where it is a balmy twenty-seven degrees today,’ said the captain.

  ‘Twenty-seven degrees? That’s hot,’ said Penny. ‘I hope I cope in the heat.’

  ‘You’ll be fine, Mum,’ said Tegan as the plane gently rolled to a stop and the seatbelt light went off.

  They let the other passengers leave the plane first, while Primmy slept soundly, her round face relaxed in a way that made Penny wonder if she herself had ever slept that peacefully.

  Finally, the aisle had cleared, and Tegan gently lifted her daughter up and onto her shoulder. Penny took the hand luggage from above their heads and they walked off the plane and into a busy terminal.

  ‘We have to get our luggage first, and hopefully Primmy’s pushchair hasn’t broken. She’s heavy,’ said Tegan. They joined a queue to have their passports checked.

  The wait wasn’t too long and still Primmy slept on her mother’s shoulder.

  Eventually, they had their luggage on a cart. Primmy was awake and in her pushchair, drinking from her bottle of water and looking around sleepily, and they walked out the doors into the arrivals area. It was so humid Penny felt like she had stepped into a sauna. People were everywhere. Talking, laughing, walking with their little cases on wheels. It was exciting to be somewhere so new and she felt butterflies in her stomach.

  Tegan was pushing Primmy. They spotted a huge homemade sign high above the people waiting to greet the new arrivals.

  Welcome to Penny, Tegan, and Primmy.

  It was Paul and his daughters. They were all in summer clothes of bright colours and were waving madly. Paul was in white shorts and a pink polo top and he had sunglasses hanging from his neck. He seemed more handsome and as tall as ever. Penny felt silly in her navy pants and prim white blouse and laced-up shoes. She wanted to wear pink and orange and sandals and sunglasses and throw all her old clothes away.

  ‘Tegan! Did you tell them we were coming?’

  Tegan grinned. ‘He was so excited when I told him.’

  Penny looked at Tegan and then at Paul. She hesitated, frozen. ‘Go, Mum, go – he wants you.’

  And then Penny ran forward and threw herself into his arms, crying and laughing, while he kissed her head and held her tight.

  ‘Penny, my Penny,’ he kept repeating. When they pulled apart Tegan was hugging her half-sisters and Primmy was out of the pushchair and in her Aunt Julie’s arms, playing with her necklace.

  ‘Penny, I would like you to meet my daughters, Julie and Claire, who are the light of my lives and beautiful like their mother and smart like her too.’

  Penny loved him all the more for including his wife in the introduction. She wanted these women to know that she respected their mother and her part in his life.

  Hugs all round. His daughter Claire said, ‘Thank God you’re here. Dad’s been a nightmare since he came back. All he does is carry on like a pork chop about you all. Now we can all get on with it.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Julie. ‘Let’s head back to mine and you can meet our other halves and the kids. We both have one each: a boy and girl. I have Patrick who is ten months and Claire has little Violet, who is about Primmy’s age, yes? Isn’t that nice? A Primrose and a Violet. If we have more girls, we could have a whole bouquet.’

  They strolled in the direction of the exit, still carrying the sign, Primmy back in her pushchair. Penny and Paul hung back and watched them for a moment.

  ‘I couldn’t believe it when Tegan told me you were all coming,’ he said, taking her hand.

  ‘I couldn’t believe it when I saw the sign.’ She laughed.

  ‘You look wonderful,’ he said.

  ‘Then wonderful must look happy, because that’s all that’s changed about me since you saw me last.’

  ‘So the trick is to keep you happy,’ he said, and he leaned down and kissed her. A proper kiss. A kiss like the ones they had shared when they first met so many years ago.

  If Penny thought that desire was gone, or that she was too old for a lover or too out of practice, it all dissipated in that kiss. Her arms went around his neck and she kissed him back passionately until they were both out of breath.

  ‘I am sorry it took me so long to get here,’ she said.

  ‘Yeah, it’s a long flight,’ he agreed.

  ‘I mean – to kiss you, to be with you like this,’ she explained.

  ‘You’re here now, and you have all the time to world to make it up to me.’ He was teasing.
It felt good to be teased.

  ‘Me? Make it up to you? Oh, Paul Murphy, you have some making up of lost time to get on with.’

  ‘Then let’s make it up together,’ he said and they kissed again, just for good luck.

  45

  Dan put down the phone and stared out the window across the sea.

  He had been offered a job. A proper journalist’s role for the largest paper in Britain – based on the story on Remi.

  The editor wanted him to profile people and he could write from anywhere. He just had to interview people of his choice, and the interviews should be between ten thousand and fifteen thousand words. That was a lot of words. But in the past he’d felt fenced in by the strict limit of fifteen hundred words on his column. Now he could explore the story, unravel the situation – the person. ‘You can profile whoever you like. But they have to be interesting and they have to sell papers.’ The editor had laughed, but he wasn’t joking. ‘People you might think are one thing but end up being something else. There has to be a twist in some way.’

  Dan would have to be curious, but he could give a sense of place and tell the story the way the subject deserved.

  He was supposed to deliver one profile every six weeks, which was plenty of time – but he could stretch it to eight weeks if the subject needed more exploration. And there would be a video component, like they had done for the article on Remi.

  ‘An immersive experience,’ the editor had said.

  He had said he would need time to decide, which was a lie, but he wanted Tressa’s opinion first.

  As though reading his mind, Tressa came downstairs in her familiar red and orange flannel shirt. ‘What are you looking out at?’ she asked him, coming to stand by his side.

  ‘Just the weather,’ he said. ‘Can I make you some lunch?’

  ‘Lunch? It’s ten in the morning,’ she said and patted Richie as she passed him. The dog was sleeping on an armchair with Ginger Pickles perched on the back of the same chair, looking at Richie as though he were a nuisance, but a bearable one.