Page 18 of The Beach Cottage
Bea studied the street, the way the sunlight glinted on the roof of the shop opposite, the scent of salt in the air, the sight of seagulls hopping along the pavement looking for scraps of food — it reminded her of hot summers, endless days swimming in the ocean, friendships that sustained her and the pain of losing a mother too young.
Coral Island was a place of joy, strength and peace for her, but it was also the setting for the biggest loss of her life. Another great loss had driven her back to it after she’d spent years avoiding having to face up to her past. But it was time for her to grow up. With one last glance over her shoulder she stepped out into the street, her shoulders squared with determination. Whatever Betsy was hinting at about her mother, she would uncover it — the fear she’d felt as a child at the prospect of discovering unwelcome truths no longer controlled her. She was ready to face it all.
Nine
The afternoon was bathed in golden light. Penny paddled her surfboard away from the shore and dived beneath a wave. The swell was small, as it always was on the island, but she still loved to paddle out on her board and ride whatever she could catch. The water was cool on her skin, and the heat of the day had mellowed. The humidity had lifted, and in its place was a stunning sunset that lit up all the world in a rainbow of warm colours.
She sat on her board and pushed the hair from her face, legs dangling on either side. The water was crystal clear, and she peered down into it to watch a school of small fish darting one way, then the other. A parrotfish swam into view, its iridescent scales glinting blue then green then silver in the shifting light that filtered through the moving ocean waters.
The beach house looked dark above the dunes. It was surrounded by a lush garden that could do with a good day’s worth of weeding, perhaps even a week — she didn’t work as quickly as she used to these days. She much preferred to take her time and stop for a cold drink every now and then. But even though it looked a little unkempt, she loved the house. It reminded her of a happy childhood with parents who loved her. However, Beatrice’s recent discovery of photographs in her cottage walls had thrown Penny into something of a state. Almost as though she was standing on quicksand. The happy childhood memories were shifting, and behind them, an ugly black monster reared its head.
She shuddered as the image sprang to mind for the second time that day. The murder of her grandmother was something she’d never fully processed. She’d been too young to really understand it at the time. But the event had shaped her childhood in ways she was only now beginning to understand.
The way that her stepfather had always been so protective of her mother. Her mother had never let her out of the house after dark. Had startled at every little noise. Penny had developed anxiety as a tween, and it was something she’d struggled with every day of her life since. Years of meditation had helped her manage it to the point where she had it under control — most of the time, anyway. But it’d still moulded her as a person and how she responded to the world around her.
She ran a finger over her lips. They were wet but chapped from so many days swimming in the ocean and not enough care. Much like the rest of her. These days, she’d stopped worrying about how she looked and had thrown herself into spending time in nature and taking care of the native animals on Coral Island. It was enough to keep her busy and was the kind of lifestyle that gave her satisfaction. The problem was, she’d come to realise that part of the reason she lived that way was to escape from the loneliness that’d descended over her like a scratchy wool blanket when her parents moved to the mainland and her last boyfriend left her.
After several long-term relationships that failed to result in a lifelong commitment, she’d found herself in her forties, childless and alone. Given the lack of dating options available on the island, instead of moving elsewhere or taking up a new hobby where she might meet people, she’d basically given up on the idea of finding the one and turned the beach house into a kind of hermitage.
The idea made her smile, and she shook her head. “Not funny,” she whispered to herself even as her smile widened. Her sense of humour had always been a little off-kilter and self-deprecating, and it seemed to have grown worse in recent years. But if she couldn’t laugh at herself, who could she laugh at? And she had to admit, laughing was better than crying.
She rode a wave partway to shore. It didn’t take her far, but the Malibu board was built for ease of surfing, and she stepped back and forth up and down the board to ensure that it took her as far as possible. Then she paddled back to shore and perched on the sand, staring out at the water as the darkness crept across it. Watching the ocean was a kind of meditation, one she practiced often.
She pulled her wetsuit down to her waist. Her yellow string bikini had gotten twisted beneath it, and she reached around behind her back to fix it.
“What are you doing out here in the dark all alone?” Rowan’s voice shocked her, and she almost screamed.
She slapped a hand to her chest and leapt to her feet. “You scared the life out of me. Why would you creep up on a woman in the dark like that?”
He laughed. “Sorry. I didn’t realise you were so skittish.”
“I’ve always been skittish.”
“Noted,” he said.
She wished she could see his eyes better. She could always tell what he was thinking by the look in his eyes, but the twilight made them darker than usual. He wore tailored shorts and a collared shirt. His feet were bare.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
He shrugged. “That’s a nice welcome. It’s good to see you as well.”
There was something so frustrating about the man. It was as if he tried to annoy her with every word he spoke. “I’m terribly sorry, Rowan. How lovely it is to see you on this fine evening. How can I help you?”
Her voice was laced with sarcasm, and she bent to retrieve her board from the sand before trudging back towards her house. He fell into step beside her.
“I’m not going to be around for too long, so I wanted to see you again. Is that okay?”
His words surprised her and momentarily rendered her mute.
“Oh.”
He coughed. “Anyway, how’s the wildlife refuge?”
She set her board down beside an outdoor shower on the side of her house and faced him. “It’s good, I guess. We’re running a little low on funding. I have this government grant I’ve got to apply for. But I never seem to have the time to sit down and do it.”
“Instead of surfing?”
She laughed. “The ocean was calling.”
