“Hi, Sam,” she said.
Samantha looked up with a squint, recognised her and ran over to meet her. “You brought Watson!”
“I got a new bike. Don’t you think he fits in the basket perfectly?”
Sam laughed and petted the cat, then scratched beneath his chin. “He loves it.”
Sam’s eyes were red-rimmed, and her cheeks splotched with red patches. Charmaine tipped her head to one side. “Is everything okay, Sam? Are you upset about something?”
The girl pulled back, her smile fading into a scowl. She crossed her arms. “I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? Because you don’t have to be fine. You can tell me if you’re not.”
“I’m sick of Dad being angry, that’s all. He’s angry all the time these days.”
“What’s he angry about?” Charmaine asked.
Sam kicked at a stone, sending it flying across the road. It skipped a few times before landing in the long grass on the other side. They both watched it go.
“I don’t know. I guess he’s angry about my mum. But also about Grandma. Says she’s a liar and a fraud. I don’t know whatfraudmeans, but it must be bad because he yells at her on the phone a lot.”
A man appeared nearby at a fence and shouted Samantha’s name. Charmaine recognised him as Betsy’s son. He waved Sam over, so Charmaine called out hello and raised a hand, hoping to put him at ease. It would be unnerving to see your child speaking to someone who appeared to be a stranger on the side of the road. But he seemed to recognise her as well and waved back.
“I’ve got to go,” Sam said reluctantly, looking over her shoulder at her father.
“I hope things get better soon,” Charmaine said. What else could she say? There wasn’t anything she could do to help. “If you need anything, you can reach me at the shop.”
“Thanks,” Sam replied. “See you later.”
“Okay.”
Charmaine watched the girl run back to her father and duck through a gate into their yard. Her heart ached for the child. If only there was something she could do to help. She knew only too well how hard it was to be part of a family where secrets and emotions dominated.
The only thing she couldn’t reconcile was how the sweet old lady who was her employer, her landlord, who had gifted her a bike and chatted amicably every day about all kinds of things while they worked, was the same lady described by her own son. There was no indication, to Charmaine’s way of thinking, that Betsy would lie or defraud anyone. Everything she did seemed to be for the benefit of her son, her granddaughter, her brother and even her employee. She rarely did anything for herself. What on earth were Sam and her father talking about?
As she rode back to Kellyville and her flat, she studied the trees lining the road, the birds flitting between them, the back of Watson’s head in the basket before her, and thought about her new life on Coral Island. She’d left so much drama behind that she’d hoped not to find any more where she settled.
It’d been her goal to put down roots somewhere no one knew who she was, around people who had nothing to hide and no conflict in their lives. Betsy had seemed a safe bet. An elderly woman who was so sweet she made chocolate seem bitter. And yet there were serious issues in her family that Charmaine couldn’t overlook.
She pulled her bike to a stop at the bottom of the steps that led up to her flat, then carried it gingerly upstairs, with Watson stalking along behind her. Inside the flat, she found a place to stash the bike where the old one had been before (she’d left it by the dumpster at the end of the street). Then she poured food into a bowl for Watson, made herself some macaroni and cheese and sat on the couch to read.
Watson curled up beside her once he’d finished his meal, and she patted him absently as she read. Finally, she put down the book and stared out the open window at the dark street beyond. There was more to this place than she’d believed at first. But whether she should stay long enough to discover what Coral Island was hiding, she hadn’t yet decided.
Fourteen
BEATRICE PLACEDa pot of tea and two cups with saucers on the small round table and slid into the seat across from Charmaine.
“Sorry I took so long. We’ve had a deluge of customers in the past hour.”
Rain pounded against the café’s roof so loud it was difficult to hear herself think, let alone Charmaine’s voice as she murmured, “No worries. Let’s talk about themes,” Charmaine shuffled a pile of papers then handed one to Bea.
The paper had several different colour swatches and photographs of wedding styles and themes placed around the page. Bea glanced over each one, her pulse already accelerating. She’d been married before, done this already. She didn’t want to have an over-the-top second wedding.
Aidan had suggested they get married in Italy, but she wasn’t certain her friends and family would make the trip. Dad rarely flew to Sydney all the years when she lived there and Italy was a much longer flight than that. She wanted her loved ones at her wedding, it was really the only thing she cared about when it came to planning.
She pushed the paper aside. “I appreciate you going to the trouble. But the thing is, I don’t really want a theme. I suppose the theme can be simple, classic, easy.”
Charmaine nodded and chewed the end of a pencil. “I understand.”
