Page 8 of Sanctuary at MacLeod's Cove
‘It’s OK, Jenny. We won’t be thrown out — or at least I hope we won’t. But I certainly won’t allow any of my children to waste precious time and money on a house when it’s money down the drain.’ She tossed aside the towel. ‘And I’ve said far more than I intended to tonight. It’s time for bed.’
‘Definitely,’ said Lucy, yawning. ‘I might not be doing the early shift, but I’ve still got to be at the café at eight.’
As Lucy kissed her mother goodbye and picked up her bag, Jen realised she wouldn’t get any more information tonight.
She walked Lucy to the garden gate, her mind spinning. ‘Lucy, what’s really going on with the cottage?’ she asked.
Lucy opened the car door with a click and shrugged. ‘I’m not sure I know the whole story. Mum’s being really secretive about it. She won’t let us do any repairs or improvements.’ She tugged at a strand of overgrown roses. ‘Says it’s money down the drain.’
Under the harsh outside light, Jen caught something in her sister’s expression she couldn’t quite read.
‘Is there some kind of mystery surrounding it? Secrets?’
Lucy looked away with a slight grunt. ‘They seem to run in the family, don’t they, sis? Anyway, plenty of time to talk when I’m not dead on my feet.’
‘Of course,’ said Jen. As Lucy drove away, Jen stood in the cool night air, looking back at the cottage – their cottage that apparently wasn’t theirs at all.
Another foundation of her life that might prove to be built on shifting sand. But at least this time she wasn’t facing the uncertainty alone. And neither would her mother be. If there was one thing she could do to repay her for her support, it would be to get to the bottom of this family mystery. It would help her mother and, she couldn’t help thinking, it would go some way to help herself, too.
Chapter Three
The next morning Jen was awakened by a branch of the pohutukawa tree rattling against her window as if rebuking her for sleeping in. She shot bolt upright, heart pounding, wondering where she was, and whether she or Liam were in danger. And then she remembered.
She looked out the window, through the tracery of branches to the sea, a strip of pale blue in the early morning light. The adrenaline slowly ebbed away and she lay back again, allowing her breathing to return to normal as she went over all the reasons she was safe. The main one being she was no longer her husband’s mental and physical prisoner. She’d got away. And not a little way away, but 18,000 kilometres away.
As the sound of the sea and the New Zealand birdsong continued to soothe her, she rolled onto her side to look across the small landing to the attic bedroom opposite hers. The door was open and Liam’s bed empty. She’d spent part of the night in bed with him, soothing him after a nightmare. He’d gone back to sleep pretty quickly, and she’d ended the night back in her own bed.
She’d been moving between beds for so long she couldn’t remember the last time she’d spent an entire night in her own bed. But it was different this morning — Liam hadn’t climbed into her bed upon waking. That was a first.
She got up, pulled on the dressing gown her mother had thoughtfully hung on the back of the door, and looked inside his room. The duvet lay in a heap on the floor, and Liam was nowhere to be seen.
Prints she remembered from her childhood hung on the walls — some original watercolours, others, bright, abstract prints of no value which her middle sister, Ellie, now a high-flying lawyer in Hong Kong, had insisted on buying. Everyone had always assumed she’d be an artist, but she’d ended up following a more traditional route.
Suddenly she heard Liam’s voice drifting to her through the open window. She walked over the rag rugs which her great-grandmother had made, and peered outside. Kate had responded to Liam, and Jen watched as he followed her around the garden.
To every question Liam asked about why the bird sounded weird, or why the sun moved the other way, Kate answered as if she were talking to an adult. Liam hung on every word. He was fine. Her mother was fine. And she? She was more than fine because, for the first time in a long time, it looked as if she could get a shower before going downstairs.
Half an hour later, Jen entered the kitchen. Nothing seemed to have changed in all the years she’d been away. The same large pine table dominated the room, the centrepiece to all their family gatherings. The detritus of daily life — cards, advertising flyers, drawing pins, and keys scattered amongst old-style phones and buttons of all shapes and sizes — cluttered its worn surface. Amidst it all lay a bowl of fruit and several dog-eared photos, their edges curling with age. The fruit looked to be the only fresh thing on the table. She touched the topmost photo but hesitated, knowing she’d be going down a rabbit-hole of memories she wasn’t yet ready for.
Instead, she poured herself a cup of coffee and stepped outside onto the wide verandah. She blinked in the sunlight, still bright although the sun had yet to rise above the mist which lingered over the hills.
‘See this?’ said Kate to Liam. ‘It’s a daphne bush I planted last year.’ Her mother was as nurturing with her garden as she was with her family. ‘Come over here.’ She tilted a spray of flowers to Liam, who knelt down beside her and inhaled deeply. He pulled a face and wafted his hand in front of him. ’It’s very smelly.’
Kate laughed. ‘I guess it is.’
As Kate continued to pluck out weeds and talk to Liam about flowers and the soil, Jen remembered her mother telling her about climate change. She couldn’t have been more than Liam’s age back then. But she’d understood enough to know it was a bad thing. She chuckled at the memory, and Liam immediately looked over.
‘Mummy!’ he said. ‘You’re awake!’
She grinned, put down her coffee cup on the balustrade, and held her arms out wide. ‘I am! Where’s my hug?’
Liam came running into her arms and looked up at her anxiously. ‘Are you OK?’ His small voice was laced with worry, a tone far too mature for his tender years. She hated that.
‘Fine, sweetheart,’ Jen assured him, though her heart ached at the sight of the frown which had been absent only moments earlier. ‘And what’s Grandma been showing you?’
‘The garden,’ he said. ‘Those smelly flowers,’ he pointed.
Jen exchanged grins with Kate.
