Charmaine peered around the edge of the doorframe. Her gaze took in the opening to the kitchen—she couldn’t see all the way in—then down the hallway. She tiptoed forwards, careful not to make a sound, her breath caught in her throat. Finally, she scanned the storage room at the end of the hall. A piece of paper fluttered to the floor. Then a pile of folders crashed onto the ground. Her eyes widened. What on earth was going on?
Perhaps she should call Betsy, although she should get a little closer look if she was going to relay to her boss what was happening. As far as she knew, no one but she or Betsy had a key or the security code to get into the building. But she hadn’t been there long enough to know for certain. Maybe someone else was allowed in and had the kind of filing system that involved hurling folders through the air before organising them.
As she slunk along the corridor, a photograph wafted down through the air and drifted into the storage room doorway. A photograph of a dancer in black and white. The photo was marked and scuffed, and torn at one corner. It looked much like the photos Betsy had hung around the cash register at the back of the shop.
Charmaine’s throat was dry. She couldn’t hear much other than the pounding of her own heart. She pressed up to the side of the doorframe and peeked around for a brief moment, then withdrew again. Her eyes narrowed. It was Betsy — she stood in the centre of the storage room where a table was strewn with files, paper, photographs and folders. Her back was to Charmaine, and she was riffling through the paperwork, tossing things left and right over her shoulders.
It didn’t make sense. Why would Betsy come in on a Sunday in order to make a mess of her own files? Charmaine crept back down the corridor and out through the florist shop to the street beyond. Long shadows cooled the street. Shoppers wandered up and down its length. The sun had drifted behind the buildings, throwing the island into a growing twilight. She released the breath she’d been holding in her chest, then broke into a jog.
When she’d first met Betsy, she’d liked her immediately. She was elderly but vital. Her eyes sparked with life and humour. She’d built a beautiful shop and was willing not only to give Charmaine flexible working hours, but also provide a place to live. But over the past few weeks, since she’d been on the island, she’d noticed a few strange things about Betsy. Her relationship with her son, for one. And sometimes she seemed so distracted. She’d hidden something beneath her desk a couple of times when Charmaine came into the room. And now this. Something was going on with her boss.
She ran for as long as the light held out along the shoreline. It was already dark when she made her way back up the stairs to her silent unit. Watson was gone, so she locked the cat door and flicked on a light switch. The apartment seemed lonely without the cat stretched out on her armchair. With a sigh, she opened the refrigerator to scan its shelves for something to eat. Finding nothing interesting, she threw herself into the chair with a grunt. She needed to go shopping, but it was hard to be motivated when she had only herself to feed. Perhaps she should buy some cat food.
Six
THE NIGHT AIRwas cool on Bea’s skin as she gently steered the boat through the bay. They’d slowed their pace as they neared the foreshore at Airlie Beach, and the scarf around her hair had stopped flapping as the wind abated. The sky was dark, just. The last remnants of sunlight glinted on the horizon beyond the town. Streetlights and sparkling windows dotted the hillsides like stars in an inky night.
Airlie Beach was a beautiful little hamlet, sitting cosy along the shoreline. It swelled in size during tourist season, but the rest of the year was sleepy and quiet. The shore had been turned into a tropical paradise, with a quaint sandy beach, palm trees winding along a wide footpath and sculptures here and there.
Beyond the foreshore, a sweet little central street housed touristy shops, fashion boutiques and restaurants and clubs, as well as an array of palm trees, shrubs and garden beds, all meticulously maintained. On the other side of the headland was the marina, large and spacious, with yachts and boats of varying sizes moored throughout. That was where Bea was headed as she turned the rudder to steer her small boat around the point and into the marina to dock. Her brother leased several spaces along one dock and had offered to let her use it whenever she wished.
In the boat, Penny, Taya and Eveleigh all sat along the bench seats on either side of the rear, behind where Bea stood. They’d given up on conversation as soon as they’d left the island — the noise of the engine, the wind, the slapping of small waves against the hull were too much for them to hear each other’s voices. But as she pulled into the dock, they started chatting again.
They were all excited about an evening out on the town. Now that Bea lived on the island, she understood the need to visit a larger town or city every now and then. Coral Island was the perfect getaway from the noise and bustle of the mainland life, but sometimes it was good to immerse herself in the buzz of it all. She missed the energy of life in the city on occasion, but Airlie Beach was nothing like a city. For tonight, it would have to do.
“Ready for your hen’s night?” she asked as she switched off the boat engine.
Taya tied the boat to the dock. Eveleigh and Penny climbed out of the boat hand in hand.
Penny straightened the glowing headband that flashed the wordbrideatop her head with a grin. “I’m ready to party!”
Bea’s smile faded. “I’m not sure if we’re going to do a lot of partying…”
Penny laughed. “What I mean is, I’m ready to eat rich Mexican food, take an antacid and go to bed early. Better?”
Taya rolled her eyes. “You guys. Come on—how often does one of us get married?”
“For me?” Penny shrugged. “Never before.”
“Right, so let’s do this — it’s celebration time.”
“The middle-aged way…” Eveleigh added, raising both hands in the air. “With orthotics and regular hydration.”
Bea laughed. “Come on, ladies. We can be young again for one night. It’s all for a good cause. Besides, it’s been so long since I went out after dark, I feel like I’m becoming a recluse.”
“Reclusive with Aidan Whitlock,” Taya murmured with a wink. “You poor thing.”
They all laughed then.
Bea had been looking forward to the evening all week long, but she’d woken up with sciatic pain in her lower back and right hip, and she hadn’t slept well because of it. So she was exhausted and a little on edge, but spending time with her friends was just the thing she needed to get her laughing and to help her forget about the twinge in her hip. Besides, it was Penny’s big night. Time to push aside her own feelings and have a wonderful time for her friend’s sake if for no other reason.
She hobbled along the dock after them, wishing she’d worn pants instead of a flimsy dress. It’d been almost impossible to hold down while driving the boat, and now that she was on the shore, the wind came in gusts, lifting the fabric into the air around her every few seconds.
“Ugh, this is ridiculous.” She pushed one hand down on the dress, the other clutching her small purse.
“We can stop along the way to the restaurant and buy you some leggings if you like,” Eveleigh suggested.
Bea frowned. “Really? I don’t want to be a buzzkill, but that would help a lot. I’d love not to flash my undies at the entire town.”
