Page 50 of The Beach Cottage
Bea nodded. “Fine by me. I’m happy to spend more time on the water.” She loved going out in the boat. It was her father’s, and he’d let her borrow it. She didn’t take it out on her own often, but she didn’t want to traverse the terrible roads to the inn. Especially since the council had decided it was time to fix the track, and locals were reporting hour-long waiting times for roadworks along the trail.
“Whoa. Maybe you should call first. Like I said, he’s a bit of a tyrant.” Rowan’s voice crackled on the line.
“Where are you?” Penny asked.
“I’m on my way home from climbing Mount Prospect with Aidan.”
Just the sound of his name sent a bolt of electricity through Bea’s body, momentarily sobering her up. She wanted to climb Mount Prospect with Aidan. It was a small but picturesque mountain, more of a hill really, located in the centre of the island beside Blue Lake. They’d picnicked at the lake several times when they were dating. So many of her favourite memories were bound up in him.
“Okay, we’ll let you know how it goes,” Penny said. “Thanks, Rowan!” She hung up the phone in the middle of his objections.
“I think he was still talking,” Evie pointed out.
Penny blinked. “Was he? Is anyone else’s head spinning?”
“Definitely,” Bea replied.
“I’m sober,” Taya said. “I think I should drive.”
Twenty-Two
The wind that buffeted the eastern side of the island blew Bea’s hair into her face so she could barely see where they were going. Thankfully, Taya had her hair pinned back and stood with both hands on the steering wheel, her face steely, large sunglasses dark against her pale face.
Bea sat beside Evie, who rested her head on Bea’s shoulder as they rode. Before long, the waves were too rough, and Evie’s head thwacked multiple times on Bea’s collarbone before Evie decided to sit up straight.
Bea massaged her shoulder. “You have a hard head. Has anyone ever told you that?”
Evie smiled. “I’ve heard it a few times. But I think it was meant metaphorically.”
They moored the boat in the small marina at Amity Point and climbed the wooden staircase to the streets, where a smattering of charming houses looked out over the headland. It was easy enough to locate the place where Buck Clements lived. It was nestled within a well-tended garden with flower beds and climbing trellises. The house was old but well maintained, and the updated paintwork glistened beneath the afternoon’s golden sunshine.
“Well, this wasn’t what I was expecting of a man described as a hermit and a tyrant,” Bea said, nudging a small garden gnome sporting a red hat.
“No, I thought we’d find a horrible cave or something with an underground pit beside it and a vicious attack dog guarding it.” Evie peered along the winding footpath that was cleverly marked out with pretty matching stones.
“That might be a bit hyperbolic,” Penny said. “But I know what you mean.”
They walked cautiously up the path. Bea bit down on her lower lip. “Do you think this is a good idea?” She was a little more sober now than she had been when they set out, and the previously good idea was beginning to smell a little more like a rotten one.
“It’s fine,” Taya assured them, striding ahead. “Come on, slowpokes. Try to keep up.” Her long legs closed the distance to the house, and Bea jogged along behind her, anxiety turning flips in her gut.
At the front door, Taya raised her fist to knock on the wooden frame. Only a fly screen stood between them and the man who’d terrorised Rowan in his early years. Bea hated to think what that might’ve entailed. As much pain as she’d gone through in losing her mother, she’d been raised by two parents who not only loved her, but were warm, gentle and kind. The idea of an angry, violent father or stepfather sent a shiver down her spine and made her wish she could go back in time and rescue the young Rowan who’d spoken with a stammer and had always looked so thin and forlorn in their younger years. The memory tugged at her heart strings. Although, she had to admit he hadn’t told them any specifics, so perhaps her imagination was exaggerating what’d gone on in their household.
“Hello. Can I help you?” A man walked around the outside of the house with a shovel in his hands. He wore gardening gloves and a floppy straw hat. His lips were pulled into a wide smile, and his blue eyes twinkled.
Bea was rendered speechless.
“Ah, yes. We’re looking for Buck Clements. Does he live here?” Taya said.
The man stepped forward, tugging his hands free of the gloves and shoving them into the front pocket of his denim overalls. “That’s me. What can I do you for?” He had a faint American accent and his stomach protruded slightly, but otherwise he was in good shape for his age, which Bea guessed to be around seventy.
“We’re friends of Rowan’s,” Penny said. “We had a few things we wanted to ask you, and he said you wouldn’t mind.”
Not entirely true, Bea thought, but she wouldn’t quibble over the details.
“Oh, Rowan’s friends. Why didn’t you say so? I’ll put the kettle on. Come inside and take a load off.” He sounded more Australian with every passing moment.
They followed him inside, where he ushered them into seats. Then he disappeared into the kitchen and soon returned with a platter of cheese, olives and crackers. He sat down opposite Penny with a warm smile.
