Tess parked next to the house.
“This way.” Ed took Tess over to the machinery shed and she made a beeline to the motorbikes, running her hand over the seat of one.
“I’ve always wanted to ride a motorbike.” The excitement in her eyes was hard to ignore, and Ed fought the urge to cringe. He hadn’t ridden since the incident with Charlie, had always made excuses to ride a horse instead, or had come over with a horrible headache any time his father mentioned getting on a bike.
“I’ll get Darcy to take you out,” he said. “He’s a better rider.”
She frowned. “Don’t you ride?”
“Not much. No opportunity in the city. I never got my bike licence.” He led Tess to a small tool shed off the main building, and thankfully she followed without further comment. He inhaled the smell of grease and dirt as he scanned the tidy area. His father had taught all of his children to return items to where they came from. Woe betide anyone who didn’t, and the tool was lost. It was far too long a drive into town to buy a replacement.
He pushed open the door to the storage room. A faintly musty odour came out, and he flicked the light on. Directly across from him were clear plastic containers stacked on top of each other, one which had his name on it. Brandon had mentioned something about him having stuff out here, but he’d never got around to checking.
Tess strode over to the old suitcases and trunks stored against the side wall and ran her hand over the top case, her touch reverent.
He wanted her to touch him that way.
Pushing aside his desire, he nudged her out of the way and snapped the clasps which held the suitcase shut. This one was more of a fifties-style case, so probably held things that belonged to his grandparents or great-grandparents.
He grabbed a rag from the tool shed and carefully brushed off the red dust which covered the top. His mother would kill him if he got the things dirty.
The pang of loss hit him. She’d never know.
He took a deep breath to settle himself. He would know, and that’s what mattered. Ed passed Tess the cloth, so she could wipe the dust from her fingers, and pried open the lid. A granny square rug lay on top, a black border with squares of different colours. Underneath was the dull white of a wedding dress. Ed hesitated. “Maybe we should do this inside.” At least then they could lay the items on a clean table or floor as they explored.
Tess nodded. “Yes. I’d hate to damage anything.”
He closed the case again and studied the containers. Four old-fashioned suitcases and two trunks, which were the type he’d seen in historical movies. There should be room in his mother’s craft room.
The suitcases weren’t heavy, so they each carried one at a time. Darcy called Ed over as they returned to the shed.
“What are you doing?”
“Tess is interested in the family history,” he said. “She found the name of her pearl-diving ancestor on the plaque for the Retribution, and she’s going to check if there’s a journal from Lilian in the stuff.”
“Where are you putting it all?”
“Mum’s craft room.” Perhaps he should have asked Darcy, but he still considered the Ridge his home, even if he hadn’t lived there for six years.
Darcy took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair before replacing it. “Can you wait until Lara gets home to go through them? I’ve been meaning to bring them in for a few weeks, and haven’t got around to it. She’ll be gutted if you do it without her.”
He should have considered Lara. “Sure.”
They’d only have to wait a couple of hours, and Ed could imagine Lara’s devastation if she caught them going through the trunks. He returned to the storeroom with Tess, and together they carried the rest of the containers over to the house.
“What’s in your box?” Tess asked when they returned to the storeroom to check if they’d missed anything.
“I’m not sure. Probably stuff from my childhood.” He made no move to open it. His childhood held a few painful memories he didn’t want to revisit.
Tess frowned. “You’re not curious?”
Not really, but he could tell Tess was. He sighed. Maybe it was time he put it all behind him. His steps drew him over to the clear plastic containers, and he shifted Georgie’s to the floor to access his.
Bracing himself, he opened the lid and froze. His black Akubra hat sat on the top, as brilliantly black as the day his parents had bought it. His father had advised against getting black, had said it would attract the sun and heat his head, but Ed had insisted. He’d always felt like the black sheep of the family, and figured it suited him. He’d worn the hat when he went horse-riding with Georgie, or doing his chores, and his father had been right, it was a sun magnet. Not that Ed would have ever admitted it.
“That’s like Darcy wears,” Tess said.
He placed it on her head. “You can have it.”
