Anna
September
As far as Anna Kendall was concerned, a pinky swear was not a legally binding agreement. She should know; she was a lawyer and had been one for almost a decade.
A pinky swear would never hold up in court.
‘Your honour, according to the law pertaining to pinky swears…’
Said no lawyer, ever.
She was a contractual law specialist for goodness sake. It was her job to get her clients out of agreements (among other things) and yet, here she was, driving some six hours away from Sydney heading north to Ellesmere, the place she called home once upon a time.
Once upon a time…
Sounded like a bloody fairytale and, for some, Ellesmere was just that. It certainly had all the makings of one. White sandy beaches fringed with lush emerald-green surrounds housing rich flora and fauna, and a small-town quaintness that showed heart and soul, without being isolated like some of the towns further up the coast.
But for Anna, Ellesmere had lost its gleam, its happily-ever-after appeal, years ago. Ellesmere was nothing but a sad reminder of the past.
So why the hell are you going back?
‘Good question,’ Anna muttered to herself as she passed a road sign indicating she was less than two-hundred kilometres from town.
Simple answer. Because of the pinky swear. A juvenile act she stupidly participated in at the ripe old age of thirteen.
Anna couldn’t recall whose idea it’d originally been, but she could clearly picture the three of them; Juliette, Sera and herself sitting at Opal Head on a windy summer evening, the night before Sera and her family headed back home to Sydney, sitting cross-legged, pinkies entwined and chanting those stupid words.
I do solemnly swear to uphold the vow of the pinky swear. If any of my sisters need me I shall honour the vow, no matter where, no matter when, no matter why.
Her mind spiralled back to her youth. If she remembered correctly, it’d been Juliette’s idea to go to Opal Head where it always blew a gale. Juliette was always coming up with ideas, probably from being raised in a bookstore and surrounded by all those books. Sera had fashioned the way in which the swear was carried out. It was her idea to have them link each of their pinkies so they were all connected, intertwined, bound for life. But the chant itself, well, that’d been Anna’s brainchild. Legal jargon had been in her veins way back then, long before she’d even thought of a career in law.
So the blame was equally divided three ways and now she was honouring the vow. The ‘where’ was Ellesmere, the ‘when’ was eighteen years after the fact. And the ‘why’? It was because Juliette had cancer and she was dying.
Anna blew out a breath. Stage three aggressive ovarian cancer. She may not be a doctor but she knew that sentence was code for no hope. They’d only given Juliette a few months, six tops. It was almost October and three months would take her through to January at the earliest or April if she was lucky.
Oh Anna, how insensitive are you?
She was calculating when her friend was going to die. As a lawyer, Anna was used to people telling her she had no soul. At the beginning of her career it bothered her until she realised the sooner she stopped caring about what others thought, the better she’d be at her job. It worked. When she was at work Anna separated her emotions, but it hadn’t been easy. She supposed it came from years of being referred to as ‘that Kendall girl’, a tag bestowed on her thanks to the sins of her father.
Anna passed another road sign, this one indicating that Ellesmere was a little over an hour’s drive away. Her body stiffened and she let out a deep exhalation, moving her neck from side to side to relieve some of the tension. Her death grip on the steering wheel didn’t help and at this rate she’d have a migraine by the time she got to town.
You can do this, Anna.
The mental pep talk did nothing to alleviate the turmoil boiling within. Her stomach had a mind of its own.
Distraction. She needed a distraction, anything to keep her mind from focusing on returning home. Music. Yes, music was what she needed. Flicking on the radio, she let the autodial tune into the closest radio station. When Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Sweet Home Alabama filled the cabin, Anna rolled her eyes. She didn’t need a song about a happy homecoming. This was anything but. She hit the button to change stations and groaned when she heard the next song, P. Diddy’s I’m Coming Home.
Anna didn’t believe in fate, although if she did she would be inclined to think it was telling her something. But fate didn’t just happen. Life was a consequence of your own choices. There was no point in blaming fate because that was just a cop out. Her father blamed fate, blamed everything and anyone but himself.
Anna let the Diddy song play out and listened to the lyrics. By the end Diddy claimed to be a better man. Too bad the same couldn’t be said of her dad.
The Kendalls had been a part of Ellesmere for generations until her father’s deceit had shamed them all. Anna knew the town would not have forgotten and her return, no matter what the reason, would be anything but pleasant. She was the prodigal daughter returning home.
* * *
‘Hey, Jack!’
Jack Harper turned his head in the direction of where he heard his name being called out and saw Mick Macreedy, town butcher and mad footy fan, across the street, his hands cupped around his mouth like a makeshift megaphone.
‘Mick.’ Jack balanced the coffees and muffins with one hand and lifted his free one to greet his mate. ‘Still on for tonight?’
Mick hastily scanned the road for any oncoming traffic before jogging over to him, his beer gut jiggling as he crossed the road.
‘That’s what I was gonna talk to you about. They’re forecasting a scorcher, so a total fire ban’s in place.’ Mick’s breathing was laboured from his ten-second dash and his cheeks were ruddy. He knew Doc O’Neill had been on Mick’s back about shedding some pounds; didn’t look like Mick was listening though.
Damn. There went the barbecue. It was the week of the last preliminary footy finals. His team, Easts were playing Newcastle –
Mick’s team – for a spot in the grand final. When Jack had moved to Ellesmere just over a year ago it was footy that broke the ice with the locals and Mick had been one of his first friends. When it became apparent their teams were playing against each other Jack had organised a barbecue at his place.
‘Guess we’re going to need a plan B.’ Jack rubbed his three-day stubble and wondered if he should’ve taken the time to shave that morning. Not that it really mattered; he wasn’t in Sydney where his job demanded a daily shave, and where if it wasn’t the job it was the wife. High-pressure city job and wife were no longer around and he’d never been happier.
‘All sorted, mate.’ Mick stood with his hands on hips. ‘Spoke to Johnno and Boof and they’re installing a big-arse widescreen at Elle’s.’
Johnno, whose name was John, and Boof, whose real name Jack still didn’t know, were the local electricians – or sparkies, as they were referred to by the locals. Elle’s was the nickname the locals used for the Ellesmere Pub. While Jack was slightly disappointed at the change of plans, he knew better than to mess with Mother Nature, especially in the country. His barbecue was a massive wood burner, not a gas or electric one that would still be allowable during a total fire ban.
‘Sounds like you’ve got it all under control. Now all that’s left is for my boys to pulverise yours.’
‘Ha. Funny.’ Mick threw a friendly jab that packed some punch into Jack’s arm.
‘Hey, careful,’ he warned. ‘I’m carrying precious cargo here.’ Jack lifted the coffee tray to illustrate his point. ‘Mavis will not be very happy if her morning brew is sloshed and her froth in the latte is nonexistent.’
‘When is Mavis happy?’ Mick muttered and Jack chuckled. He had that one on the money.
Mavis Vaughn was his office assistant or, as she liked to refer to herself, his secretary. If Jack had to take a stab at guessing her age he’d say Mavis was sixty something. He’d made the mistake of asking once and Mavis responded with the filthiest death stare a woman had ever thrown at him – and he’d had his fair share from the opposite sex.
‘See you at six,’ Mick saluted his farewell and started to head off before turning back. ‘Oh, and don’t forget, it’s loser’s shout.’
Jack shrugged. ‘I can handle that.’
‘Nah, nah, nah,’ Mick laughed as he shook his head. ‘Loser shouts everyone in Elle’s a drink. It’s tradition.’ The cheeky look on Mick’s face told Jack otherwise.
‘Tradition? Since when?’
‘Since now.’ Mick walked off down the street to his butchery, throwing him one last comment as he went. ‘Don’t be late, city slicker!’
Jack couldn’t help but grin as he opened the door to his office and the sound of the photocopier beeping in the back room heralded Mavis’s presence.
‘Morning Mavis!’ he called out loud enough for the old biddy to hear as he placed the coffee tray down on the front desk. Any moment now Mavis would bustle in and complain that the copier was broken. She had a habit of jamming the machine and no matter how many times Jack had shown her how to remove the jam, Mavis couldn’t get it. Sometimes he was more office assistant than solicitor, especially when Mavis was around. His wife, Bridie, had wondered why he’d hired Mavis in the first place, arguing that firstly she was an ‘incompetent old bat’ and, secondly, that he’d never have enough business to sustain paying her.
Bridie was wrong on both accounts. Besides the photocopier caper (and lack of social skills), Mavis was an exceptional employee. She was punctual and organised and that’s all he really needed.
‘The copier’s busted again. You really should fix that machine.’ Mavis, as predicted, burst into the room, her perfectly coiffured purple hair complemented by an outfit a few shades darker. While her outfits changed daily, Jack noticed that she always wore the same jewellery, a strand of pearls around her neck, matching earrings, and a pearl and diamond ring on her ring finger. He knew Mavis was a widow and that she’d moved to Ellesmere from Brisbane after her husband had passed, much to her children’s chagrin.
Jack suppressed a smile as Mavis brushed past him. ‘Morning Mavis,’ he repeated. ‘I’ve got muffins and coffee.’
‘Hmmmph,’ came Mavis’s stock standard reply as she craned her head to look at the goods on the front table. ‘Did they have any of them cronuts?’
Jack shot her a confused look. ‘I’m sorry, cro-what?’
Mavis made eye contact for the first time since he’d walked in and looked at him as if he were an idiot. ‘A cronut, Jackson. It’s a cross between a doughnut and a croissant. Thought you of all people, being a city slicker and all, would be across this new-fangled pastry. Even Michael Macreedy knows what they are and that’s saying something.’
Jack wanted to ask Mavis if she knew what a cronut was, how long was it going to be until she was able to handle a photocopier. He also wanted to know how long he would need to have been living in Ellesmere before they stopped calling him a city slicker. Somehow he guessed the answer on both accounts would be ‘never’.
Jack took his coffee and muffin into his office and started to go through his emails. He was barely halfway through them before Mavis knocked on his door and walked in without waiting for his reply. ‘Juliette Cole’s here to see you.’
‘Okay, send her in.’
A few moments later a slightly apprehensive Juliette appeared. Juliette was the owner of The Bookworm café/bookstore, home to the best muffins Jack had, hands down, ever tasted, and now, according to Mavis, they had something called a cronut.
‘Hey, Juliette, take a seat,’ Jack stood up to shake her hand and felt a slight tremble as he held her hand in his.
Even before a client or prospective client opened their mouth, Jack liked to guess their reason for visiting. He’d helped Juliette out last year when she’d purchased the shop next to hers to extend. Renovations had been completed last month and the place looked amazing. He’d looked over the contract of sale for her back then, but something told him that this visit had nothing to do with the shop or the new extension.
‘Now, how can I help?’
Juliette nervously blew out a breath as she sat and rubbed her palms back and forth across her thighs. ‘Jack…you handle all sorts of legal matters, right?’ She moved her gaze to meet his and Jack could see her bright blue eyes were missing their normal spark. Instead, they were masked with anxiety.
‘Yes. I’m a jack of all trades, so to speak.’ Hoping to ease her nerves, Jack grinned at his own joke. It usually had his clients grinning back, but not today.
Juliette sat wringing her hands, her focus fixed on something outside his office window, her face a picture of sadness. Jack’s own expression sobered up quickly and he felt like a total idiot for even trying to joke with her. ‘Juliette, what’s going on?’
Juliette continued to look outside as she spoke. ‘I found something out last week that’ll have an impact on the store and I need to…do something about it.’
‘Okay…’ Maybe he was wrong. Maybe this was about the store.
‘I need to get my affairs in order.’
Jack felt like he’d been winded. No one said they needed to get their affairs in order unless…
‘I’m dying Jack. I need to write my will.’
* * *
With less than half an hour left until she arrived in Ellesmere, Anna stopped at Coffs Harbour. She reasoned it was because she’d been driving without a stop since Port Macquarie some two hours earlier, but really she was prolonging the inevitable. She grabbed a sandwich from a deli and headed to the park across the road.
Last night she’d told Juliette on the phone she’d be in Ellesmere by late afternoon. It was fast approaching five o’clock and if she wanted to get to Juliette’s by nightfall she’d better get a wriggle on. Maybe that’s what she wanted. To arrive incognito, under a cloak of darkness, exactly the same way she and her mum had left town.
Because of her father.
But she wasn’t her father. And this wasn’t his homecoming. It was hers, so stuff it if the locals were going to be all up in arms about her being back in town. She was going to be there for Juliette.
Anna stood up, dusted the crumbs off her outfit and scrunched up her rubbish before slam-dunking it into the nearest bin.
‘Not bad, Anna.’ She praised her gross motor skills and, buoyed by her newfound confidence, jumped into her car and headed north out of Coffs.
Her confidence lasted as far as Ellesmere’s town limit and that’s when the panic rolled though her again. The view into town was a sight to behold. The sun was just about to set; it was neither day nor evening but the Pacific Ocean glistened ahead and the cloudless sky held promise of a warm, balmy night.
It was hot for late September and the numerous fire danger rating signs she’d passed on her way up the coast indicated that a total fire ban was in place. She may have left the country almost fifteen years earlier but being alert when there was a total fire ban still felt like second nature.
As Anna turned onto Bellinger Road, the town’s main street, she was catapulted back to her childhood. There was the historic old cinema where her dad had taken her to see her very first movie, The Man From Snowy River. She was still in primary school and walked out of the movie convinced she was going to be a stockman when she grew up. Her father had been her hero, her protector. How had he fallen so fast from hero to villain? Anna felt the emotions flow though her: anger and sadness. She felt her eyes twitch as tears threatened but, as she’d done many times before, she promptly pushed those feelings to the furthest corners of her mind.
Control. It was all about control. If she had control the world was a good place. It’d earned her the not-so-desirable nickname of Anal Anna, but she didn’t care. Control and being precise had made her who she was; given her success at work and the fact that she was on the cusp of being made a partner, she was not going apologise for her control-freak nature.
Further up the road was Harriet’s Hairdos, the hairdresser that looked untouched by time. Next door there was an IGA supermarket, which had once been the town’s general store, owned back then by the Fleming family, and Anna caught herself wondering who owned it now.
She slowed at the zebra crossing to allow a bunch of pedestrians to cross. She scanned them but didn’t recognise anyone. Ellesmere was a small coastal village and when she was a kid the population was a little under three thousand. Anna was unsure how much growth the town had seen over the past decade and a half, but judging by some of the newer buildings, there’d been some change. Maybe part of that was tourism or even the arrival of people wanting a seachange, but even with growth and change, Anna knew there would be town stalwarts, those who never forgot. She’d deal with them in due time, but right now she needed to get to Juliette’s.
Rounding the corner she took a right down Paradise Parade, then followed the road until it joined Saltwater Drive. Her old house was on this street, up the road and to the left. Had there been an alternative way to get to Juliette’s she would’ve taken it, but there was no other way so the drive past her old home was inevitable. Anna planned to speed up and not look left at all, but like all well-laid plans, this one went astray and she looked. She slowed, but didn’t stop. The sight of her childhood home tightened the knots already present in her stomach.
The new owners had painted the beach house white, but Anna guessed the actual colour had some chic name like china white or antique white. Anna’s house had been blue, just like the ocean it faced. This was not her house, not with its austere presentation and definitely not with that spiffy BMW convertible parked in the driveway. Not a bad car, but she preferred Audis herself. The front door opened and a man stepped out. It was at that moment Anna realised she had stopped.
The man, Anna deduced from her quick glance, looked to be in his early thirties. He raised his head and saw her.
Bugger.
Anna pressed the accelerator and drove off like a bank robber doing a getaway, her cheeks flushed from the mix of embarrassment and the heat of the day. Hopefully Mr Beemer didn’t get a good visual on her. He may have gotten one on her car though. Anna grimaced at the thought but decided it wasn’t worth getting all bent and twisted about it. For all she knew the house was owned by a holiday rental company and the man she saw was a weekend renter.
By the time Anna pulled up in front of Juliette’s place, thoughts about Mr Beemer and her old home were long gone. Ellesmere House had been in the Cole family since around the mid eighteen-hundreds when William Cole, Juliette’s great-great-great-great-grandfather (or thereabouts), had settled in the village of Ellesmere. It was a beautiful house reminiscent of the colonial period it was built in.
She killed the engine and gathered herself before heading to the house.
When Juliette had called the previous week and told her about the cancer, her first emotion had been shock. Her second should’ve been sadness but it wasn’t. It was guilt. It wasn’t the first time Juliette had needed her. Six years ago Juliette had lost her fiancée and high-school sweetheart, Chris Doran. Anna remembered the summer of the pinky swear was also the summer of Chris and Juliette’s first kiss. They’d been inseparable after that.
When Chris died, Anna had called Juliette, but she never came for the funeral and had never come to see her as promised. She had been in the middle of a big case; a huge one that had resulted in a promotion. By the time the case had closed so had the window of opportunity to visit Juliette to offer her condolences in person.
Anna banged her head on the steering wheel. Guilt racked her. What did she say to Juliette when she saw her? Sorry you’re dying or sorry about Chris? It’d been six years, for goodness sake.
How about giving your friend a hug and not making it all about you?
It was a start. Her inner voice had a point. Anna grabbed her things, headed up the front steps and pressed the doorbell. She heard footsteps approaching.
‘You made it,’ Juliette beamed, her blue eyes crinkling at the edges. Fifteen years might have passed, but Juliette still possessed that quiet, understated beauty. Her blonde hair was short in a stylish pixie cut, the kind that Anna would love to have but knew she could never pull off, and her naturally petite frame was still as athletic as ever.
‘Yes, I…’ Anna opened and closed her mouth, unable to form a decent sentence. But even before she could let her awkwardness fully show, Juliette seized her in a bear hug and Anna felt her tension ease a little. She’d always had that effect on people, made them feel special, made them feel good even if they didn’t deserve it.
Like you right now.
Anna felt tears prick and promptly put a stop to them before it was too late.
Anna couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried, not since she was a child anyway. She was often the one who made people cry – in court, at least, and she could always see that moment, that lead up to when the first tears were about to be shed, the moment when whoever she was cross-examining lost control.
But Anna didn’t lose control. Not ever. She liked having a tight rein on her life. She had her work, her small circle of friends outside of work (none of them were as close and as wonderful as Juliette, but then again, there was only one Juliette), but she was content. Her life was balanced and in control, just the way she liked it.
‘I’m so glad you’re here, Anna Banana.’
Anna sniffled and laughed at her childhood moniker. She much preferred it to Anal Anna.
‘No matter where, no matter when, no matter why.’ Anna smiled at Juliette as she recited the words of the pinky swear.
‘Well, if I was going to call on my swear buddies I had to have a trump card, right?’ Juliette gave her a wry smile as they pulled apart.
How could she joke about this? She had cancer. She was dying. Anna didn’t know why she was so surprised. Juliette had always been able to find the positive in any situation. When the truth had come out about her dad, Juliette was the only person she could remember defending him.
‘He’s still your dad, Anna, and what he did, yeah, it was rotten, but he didn’t do it to you, he did it for you.’
Rotten didn’t even begin to cover what her father had done. But Juliette was wrong about one thing. Her father’s motives were purely selfish. He clearly hadn’t thought of his daughter because if he had he would never have carried through with the actions that ruined her world.