Page 2 of Sanctuary at MacLeod's Cove
‘At last,’ breathed Jen, relieved to have finally made it to her destination. Suddenly exhausted, she remained seated, studying her childhood home, trying to identify what had changed.
The red door was as inviting as ever, and light from the hall lamp streamed through the stained-glass panels, casting blocks of colour down the steps to greet them, just as it had always done. The giant pohutukawa tree still stood sentinel at the side of the villa, pre-dating the villa itself. But there were changes, too.
The outside lamp highlighted peeling paint, and the path to the front door was barely visible through the tangles of early spring growth.
The years had taken their toll on the villa — visible even at night. Just as they had on her. Still, the obvious signs of neglect puzzled her.
‘Home sweet home,’ said Lucy, staring up at the house as if trying to see it through her big sister’s eyes. ‘Though I suppose not all homes are sweet, are they?’
‘No,’ Jen said quietly. ‘Not really.’ The home she’d just left had been anything but sweet, and she could sense Lucy’s curiosity, her unspoken questions.
Jen glanced at the back seat, where Liam sat fast asleep. He’d barely slept during the entire journey from England, but here, finally safe, he was out for the count.
‘Nothing sweeter than him,’ Jen said, touching his knee. The reminder was necessary — that this was real — that they’d escaped. They were safe now.
‘He’s adorable,’ said Lucy. ‘You bred a good ‘un there.’ She opened the door. ‘Let’s get the bags inside and then we can bring Liam in.’
Jen followed Lucy out of the car and inhaled deeply. That first breath of salty air, overlaid with the fragrance of an early flowering daphne bush, confirmed she was home.
‘Are you coming or are you just going to stand there?’ teased Lucy as she struggled up the path carrying a couple of bags and the suitcase which had been secreted in the hire car in London, ahead of their departure.
‘I’m coming,’ she said, grabbing the rest of the bags from the boot. Closing it quietly, she followed Lucy up to the front door. They dropped the bags on the familiar wraparound porch and returned for Liam, who was stirring.
Jen leaned into him and kissed his tousled hair. ‘We’re here, sleepyhead,’ she whispered, as he rubbed his eyes and struggled out of the seat into her arms. She lifted him out, and he stood blinking, looking up at the house.
‘Grandma’s house?’ he asked, as if unable to believe this mythical house really existed.
‘That’s right.’ His small, warm hand slipped into hers, and she looked down into her son’s trusting eyes. ‘We’re safe now,’ she murmured, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
Lucy, who had been unloading a duffle bag from the boot, paused and glanced at them, her face etched with concern. ‘I haven’t asked why you left,’ she began, her gaze steady on Jen’s face. ‘And I won’t pry…’
‘Thanks. I’ll tell you all about it later. But now’ — she looked down at Liam, who was suddenly wide awake, still on UK time — ‘this one needs my attention.’
Lucy went ahead, pushing open the front door and stepping into the house. More familiar scents enveloped Jen as she followed her sister inside. Spring flowers, baking, and chopped wood, which she knew would be piled up beside the fireplace — things that went to make up a home.
Jen and Liam followed Lucy into the kitchen. The satisfying click of the bakelite switch turned on the lights, revealing an unchanged kitchen-family room.
Charity shop finds and family heirlooms vied for space on the open shelves, and plants fitted into every nook and cranny that were free, and some that weren’t. Beside the butler’s sink, washed dishes drained, and pots, pans and colanders hung from an overhead rack.
‘Wow,’ said Liam, looking around, wide awake now. ‘It’s like that museum we went to, Mum.’
Lucy failed to stifle her laughter as she opened the larder door. ‘Fancy a hot chocolate, Liam?’
Liam nodded but still kept hold of Jen’s hand. She gave it a reassuring squeeze.
‘Good idea,’ she said, bobbing down in front of him and undoing his coat. ‘There,’ she said, slipping it off his slim shoulders and draping it over the back of a kitchen chair. ‘Come and sit over here on the window seat. It used to be my favourite reading place.’
He knelt among the cushions and pressed his nose against the window. ‘I can’t see any lights,’ he said, peering into the darkness.
‘That’s because there aren’t any. We’re not surrounded by houses and streets and shops and cars here, like we were in London.’ Jen joined Liam on the window seat, rubbing away the condensation his breath had formed. ‘There’s just a narrow patch of grass, a wall, then a bigger stretch of sand and the sea out there.’ She glanced down at Liam, whose gaze was fixed on the blackness outside as if imagining the scene her words had created. ‘Nothing to keep you awake like police sirens or the shouts of people walking by. There’s only the sound of the sea to lull you to sleep, and the whisper of the wind in the trees to keep you there.’
‘Oh,’ Liam said with a sigh, as he relaxed into the cushions. Without thinking, she’d lowered her voice, changing it to the ‘woozy voice’ Liam claimed she had when she read him bedtime stories.
It wouldn’t take much to get him off to sleep tonight, unlike most other nights when he stubbornly lay awake until exhaustion finally overtook him. It was tension, she knew — tension and worry and fear which super-charged his nervous system, draining him. He picked up every cold and ailment going.
Lucy slid the cup of hot chocolate across the table. Liam rubbed his eyes and took the cup between his two hands before looking up anxiously. ‘Can I drink, Mum?’
Jen felt her heart break a little more. ‘Of course you can. Go ahead.’
