All through the night, questions buzzed back and forth in Erin’s head. Last time they’d met, she’d seen shock, pain, and despair flash across Hamish’s face. She pushed that picture aside. She’d come to a decision. Now she must make it happen. There wasn’t time to give the property its final polish before the sale. She needed the money now. As she headed towards Sarah’s for a medicinal coffee next morning, face drawn from lack of sleep, Erin followed a blind impulse and stepped into Hamish’s office.
‘We knew you’d be back,’ Jenny said, now looking more like a receptionist than a sandwich maker. ‘I’ll get you to sign this blank contract. You’ve already signed the paper appointing him as assignee. Now, if we get a buyer while you’re away, we can finalise the sale. Make it a done deal.’ Erin nodded. After a murmured exchange on the intercom, which successfully blocked Erin’s attempt to listen in, Jenny waved her towards Hamish’s inner sanctum.
‘I’m so glad to see you Erin,’ he said. ‘Really glad.’ The warmth in his voice told her he meant it. It was a million miles from the polite nothings a regular lawyer might use to greet his client.
‘I need to talk to you, Hamish. About a lot of things,’ she said, struggling to be a cool city dude dropping in on her lawyer for a quick shot of advice, and not coming close. ‘Not legal things.’
‘Do go on.’
‘You know I hate having to sell the property. And you know I absolutely have to. My mother’s life…its —’ Tears leaked down her cheeks.
‘I understand.’ He moved back in his chair, let the silence grow.
She found a tissue, wiped her eyes. ‘I know the Landcare people will say I’m just a greedy city type desperate to get my hands on the money.’ She fought tears again, and won. ‘And worst of all, I know how much I’ve hurt you. I — I just have to talk it through with someone. Someone who —’
‘How about your friendly lawyer? Tomorrow night? At Highlands Hall, over dinner? It’s Friday, after all.’
Erin remembered Hamish telling her about the up-market restaurant, hidden in the hills half an hour’s drive away. ‘You mean…a dinner date?’
He smiled supportively. ‘We have things to talk about, Erin. Important things. Things that could change your life. And the Golden Dragon — it just doesn’t have the right feel,’ he said. She leaned back, confused. Whatever he said, he was asking her on a dinner date. She used the silence to read his eyes, his body language. Every signal told her that he cared, that he sensed her need, that he wanted to help.
‘I’ll organise a babysitter for Dwayne,’ he said. ‘Call for you at seven.’
Upset, teary, after an hour-long call to her mother, Erin was jolted by the knock at the door. She flicked a look at her watch. Seven o’clock! All afternoon she’d fought self-reproach over the date with Hamish. What if he was going to set up some legal trickery to block the property sale? What if he came on heavy about her plans to sell? What if, what if, what if? Then, her call to her mother, and suddenly it was seven o’clock. Hamish stood waiting outside, and she needed to dress. Having him in the next room while she changed could be — uncomfortable. There was no other person within a hundred metres of the house.
She opened the door, looked up at the smiling man, then gaped. He stood blocking the doorway, dressed in white shirt and immaculate dark suit. The outfit had made him into a model from a fashion magazine. His freshly shaved skin glowed. Literally, the sight of him, close, warm, smiling down at her, took her breath away.
‘I’ll need a couple of minutes to change,’ she said, suddenly embarrassed at her grubby jeans and T-shirt. ‘Would you like to —’
‘I’ll take a walk,’ he said easily. ‘Wouldn’t want to miss the evening light on the sea. Tonight it’ll be,’ he waved at the fluffy cloud layer on the horizon, ‘poetic.’
‘But a drink? A magazine? On the veranda? I’ll only be —’
‘I’ll be back at…’ He looked at his watch. ‘Seven-fifteen.’
The half-hour drive into the hills beyond Luna Bay passed pleasantly enough. It wasn’t until his car turned down a driveway to the left of the highway that Erin found herself biting her lip. The headlights caught the polished brass plate with the discreet sign in Roman script — Highlands Hall. The tree-lined drive led down to manicured lawns, a tennis court. The gateway to a shrubbery, complete with pond and white-painted benches, gleamed in the car’s headlights. Hamish parked opposite a wide stone staircase leading into the low building. The tuxedoed maitre d’ swanned down the stairs and stood at a respectful distance. Hamish opened the passenger door for Erin. She placed one foot, then another, onto the carpet of raked white gravel, smoothing the hem of her little black dress, reaching for her sparkly handbag. She was glad she’d dressed up rather than down. The place was a hidden treasure. A fairytale castle actually existed a short drive away from take-us-as-you-find-us, no-frills Luna Bay.
‘What do you think?’ he smiled as he held out an elbow for her.
‘It’s right out of Cinderella,’ she said. ‘And it comes with its very own Prince Charming.’ She smiled up at him. ‘I’m honoured.’
‘Good,’ he grinned. ‘I told you I wanted to put a bit of distance between us and the Golden Dragon.’
‘You have. Several light-years,’ she whispered, looking up at the ornate sandstone entrance. The maitre d’ stepped forward and offered his hand to Hamish.
‘A very warm welcome to you, Mr Bourke,’ he said with an accent that could only be Italian. We have been hoping to see more of you.’
‘Thank you,’ Hamish smiled, playing along with the man’s old-world formality. ‘Meet Ms Erin Spenser, friend and colleague.’ The man bowed.
‘Perhaps a glass of French champagne on the terrace? With our compliments. Mam’selle will need to relax after her journey.’
‘Mam’selle would enjoy that,’ Erin smiled. ‘A lot.’
Hamish steered her along the winding sandstone path to a paved area under a canopy of trimmed vines, and seated her at a small table. Her senses kicked into overload as a cocktail of floral perfumes from the shrubbery wafted round her. In the distance, a mopoke hooted. A fountain tinkled at the centre of a long rectangular pond. The champagne arrived. The maitre d’ showed Hamish the label, popped the cork, and filled the glasses with the delicious froth.
‘To — solving problems,’ Hamish said, taking up his glass. Puzzled, she looked into his face in the low light, saw an understated smile. ‘I have this good feeling,’ he said. ‘Maybe somehow, we’ll work out a way around things. He sipped his champagne. ‘You said you needed to talk to a friend, not a lawyer. I’d like to be that friend.’
‘You know you already are,’ she smiled. ‘But for now, I simply want to enjoy the moment.’ She tasted her champagne. ‘It’s just beautiful here.’ She looked away. This could be the last time she dated Hamish, the last time she ever saw him. She’d let the night be special. Create a memory that would last until she was a white-haired old lady — a memory that would lighten dark places in her life forever. She turned to face Hamish, raised her glass, and smiled a smile that told him all the things she could never say.
Dinner followed at an indoor table glittering with crystal and silver in soft candlelight. At a break between courses, Hamish looked into her eyes.
‘You want to talk now?’
Erin braced herself. ‘You know — I know, it’s simple black and white,’ she said. ‘I have to sell my place.’
‘Every Landcare person in the Bay will be sorry. But I understand.’
‘I thought you’d push me harder than that,’ she said.
‘I can only tell you what I feel.’
‘What do you feel?’
‘I — I feel for you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘That place — you still don’t really understand it.’ He put down his glass. ‘It hasn’t infiltrated your soul yet. In spite of all my lectures and our visit to the Sea Eagle’s Nest. I just hope something actually clicks for you before you — go.’
Erin remembered shinnying down the rope ladder to the little cave where her grandmother had created a shrine. Remembered that it had touched a hidden place inside her. ‘Infiltrate my soul? That sounds a bit new age. Spirits wafting through the trees.’
‘I suppose it is,’ he said. She smiled at him, glad he hadn’t chosen to play with a heavy hand. ‘I read this piece once,’ he said. ‘About a native American tribe. They believed that the forest was a spirit. Legend taught them that this spirit flowed through them, gave them life. Then the white man came, cleared the trees, farmed the land, and the spirit disappeared. First one by one, then in larger numbers, the locals began to die. Missionaries came, saw the people wasting away, asked what had happened. They told the missionaries they had no choice — their life force had disappeared. They simply couldn’t go on living as hollow shells, bereft of spirit.
‘Cute legend, but —’
‘Look at our society, Erin. Pioneers came to Australia, cleared the forests. Not here, thank goodness. But other places along the coast. Around big cities. The people living near those forests — they stayed married to their chosen partner for a lifetime, raised a bunch of happy children, then grew old and wise. Now it’s suburbia, condominiums, shopping centres, parking lots. The little towns that once dotted our countryside are disappearing. Now it’s the new house, the new apartment, the new car. The boat, the overseas trip, the fancy ornament on the coffee table, the jewels we keep hidden in the wall safe. Looks like our spirits are wafting away too.’
‘Hamish.’ She wanted to be kind to the guy, but wasn’t this all too much motherhood and apple pie? ‘Someone cuts down a tree, then they go and buy a new car? Nope, Mr Green. Not that simple.’
‘Here’s a suggestion, Erin. Promise me one little thing. Before you sell, spend a night, maybe two, at Sea Eagle’s Nest. It’s quiet there. Away from the noises of suburbia. Close to the sound of the sea. You might even connect with your grandmother’s spirit. And she’ll have a lot to tell you.’
‘You’re definitely joking.’
‘With a decent sleeping bag, of course,’ he said. ‘With food and drink. A few books.’
‘Thanks.’ Not for a second could she see herself taking his advice.
‘Okay.’ He leaned back in his chair. ‘I’ve said my piece. If magic happens, it happens, if it doesn’t, it doesn’t. Now let’s get back to reality.’
Over the next hour, the bottle of elegant wine evaporated and their meals disappeared. At the maitre d’s whispered suggestion, they flowed back onto the terrace, glasses of dessert wine in hand. Practical Pig slid onto Erin’s radar. She worked, paid her rent, exercised, mostly ate sensibly, did her laundry on Tuesdays and Saturdays. Now she’d just listened to a man feeding her a bunch of mysticism packaged in pink fairy floss. And the weirdest thing — she wanted to believe it. Maybe it was the stately trees arching over the terrace where they sat. Maybe it was the wine.
‘Can we take a walk around the garden?’ She needed space. The path was lit with soft lighting, paved with tiles.
‘You want to talk to the trees?’ he grinned.
‘Of course. Tell them I totally agree with the message they’re sending me.’
‘Let’s go, then.’ He left his empty glass and stepped onto the path. She drained her drink and followed him, enjoying the landscaped array of groomed shrubs. Suddenly she tripped, grabbed him as she stumbled.
‘My heels. I’ll park them.’ She walked to a seat and pulled off a shoe. He sat beside her on the small bench. Sitting close to him, almost touching his warm body, felt good. It would feel even better if…without stopping to think, she put her lips up to his, kissed him lightly. His return kiss was polite, friendly, nothing more. She drew back and looked up at him.
‘That was good,’ he whispered. ‘An aperitif, you could say.’ He stood. ‘I should take you home.’
‘Must you? So soon?’
‘All things considered, yes.’ They walked back to the restaurant and Hamish paid the bill.
‘Thank you, sir.’ The maitre d’ beamed. ‘I trust we see you again soon.’
‘You will. I’m running a workshop here next week.’
‘We have a large group coming for the weekend,’ the little man said as he returned Hamish’s credit card. ‘To discuss forest matters. A Japanese company. Perhaps they will also ask you to speak?’
‘Mmm. Perhaps they won’t.’ He shook the maitre d’s hand, then headed for the door. As they walked, a string of moving headlights shone through the trees lining the drive. A long white limo coasted to a stop in front of the steps. One by one, a string of dark-suited Japanese businessmen climbed out. Hamish and Erin stood at the entrance, waiting for the congestion to clear.
‘Excuse me a second.’ Hamish clicked into business mode. ‘I just remembered. The audio-visuals for my workshop next week. I should check out a couple of things with the conference manager.’ He disappeared.
Another limo stopped behind the first one. In the dim light, she saw a man, probably their local minder, slip out quickly and open a passenger door. The contingent of businessmen left the limo, and the minder ushered them towards the steps. Then, as he led the group to the entrance, he froze, staring up into Erin’s face, eyes round with disbelief.
‘Hello Todd,’ she whispered.
‘Eri! What on earth?’ Todd powered up the steps, grabbed her, held her close. ‘My dream come true! All week I’ve been hurting. I just had to see you. I’m spending the weekend here with my clients. Then, the minute our workshop’s over, I’ll —’ Suddenly, taking her by surprise, he smothered her with a passionate kiss — just as Hamish reappeared. She pushed Todd away, shocked, then eyed Hamish. He pointedly ignored her, stepped up to confront the man who still stood with arms round Erin.
‘Well, hello Mr Archer,’ Hamish said, his voice sounding like steel cutting steel. ‘I’m Hamish Bourke. The hotel staff just told me you were coming for the weekend. You must excuse me for the moment. But I suspect we’ll meet again. Soon.’
In the seconds that Todd’s open-mouthed paralysis kept him frozen, Erin dragged Hamish towards his car. Without a word, he opened her door and she slid into her seat. As he spun the car out of its parking spot and onto the drive, she waved a plastic goodbye to the still-transfixed Todd.
‘Todd Archer.’ Hamish whispered to himself as his car wound up the drive. Erin saw no point hiding the truth.
‘You probably know he’s my ex-boyfriend,’ she said. ‘And I mean ex. I told you he was a dirty fighter. I had absolutely no idea he’d be —’
‘Mmm.’ There was a sarcastic tinge to Hamish’s voice. He didn’t believe her. She must elaborate.
‘I can’t imagine what on earth he’s doing there,’ she mumbled.
‘I can.’ Now Hamish’s voice sounded like a growl from an angry lion. A long silence ticked by.
‘Yeah. I have been rather slow.’ His voice grated. ‘As ever. But now I see your game plan. First, you go all dewy-eyed about not wanting to sell your property. This gets the local Landcare people on side with you. Then later, when you, or your loving boyfriend, or most likely the two of you, hatch up some slimy deal to log the forest, the Landcare team will be putty in your hands. Then your show for the Pembroke children, your making sandwiches, acting all sweetness and light to the simple country bumpkins of the Shire. It all fits. Part of an absolutely brilliant grand plan.’ His voice trailed off.
‘To think I trusted you.’ Now he spoke with simmering anger. ‘Told you things. Things that guy could use against us. Things that his spy — all dressed up in her country girl disguise — immediately passed on to him, I have no doubt.’
‘No!’ Erin’s stomach went into spasm as the truth dawned. Hamish believed that she was a partner in the outrage Todd had masterminded, that she’d been working with Todd behind his back, all through the protest day and beyond. That she’d used Hamish’s trust to spy on the Pembroke community’s plans. How could she tell Hamish about her last dinner with Todd, when she’d hitched home from the restaurant on a truck to escape being recruited into exactly that game plan? And now Todd had kicked off Stage One of his plan.
‘That’s simply not true,’ she choked. ‘I could never do anything so —’
‘Hmm. Your enthusiasm for spending a little more time on the terrace tonight.’ Hamish’s voice reminded her of ice scraping on ice. ‘You probably wanted him to sneak a look at his future enemy — me. Like a Roman gladiator peeping while his next opponent makes a few practice lunges with his broadsword.’ He lapsed into a cold silence, staring at the road ahead. ‘I hate to think what might have happened if we’d stayed on the terrace for another few minutes. I could have been surrounded by the whole army.’ He paused.
‘And by the way, you didn’t have to cuddle up and kiss me tonight. I already liked you. More than liked you. Those cosy little beach walks you engineered. All part of the plot. I see it now. Get the enemy soft and mushy so you can wrap him round your little finger when the battle hots up.’ He let go a long sigh. ‘I trusted you, Erin Spenser. But then I’ve always been naïve around women. As no doubt your research will have told you.’ The silence settled round them like wet concrete.
‘I absolutely didn’t know Todd would be there tonight,’ Erin said with all the sincerity she could gather. ‘Todd and I split ages ago. I loathe the man. And I swear to you, I would never, never —’
‘Subject closed.’ His voice grated like a rusty metal door closing. ‘Be kind enough to give me a little peace and quiet, Ms Spenser. I need to — think through a few things.’ Thirty minutes later, he dropped her at her gate and drove away without a word.
Erin gave up trying to sleep as the gold from the sunrise peeped over the top of the ancient blind and lit the ceiling of her cottage bedroom. She might as well do the washing or take a walk or pull weeds or — anything that would distract her from the guilt that had hacked through her mind all night long. She should have told Hamish about Todd earlier. Her cell phone rang. At that time of the morning it could only be Todd.
‘Okay Eri. Truth time. What the hell were you doing at Highlands Hall last night? With that man?’ He waited…and waited. ‘Eri. Are you hearing me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Eri. For six years we were an item. I have rights. I still care for you. So would you mind telling me what exactly is going on in your life?’ She stayed silent. ‘I get it,’ he said. ‘You’re having an affair with Hamish Bourke. Number one enemy of the project. Great! You’ve been on with him for months, I suspect.’ He drew breath. ‘Mmm. That explains a lot. Always telling me it’s over between us, your coldness every time I want to show you how much I love you — physically. Then that outrageous TV grab of yours.’ He lapsed into silence. ‘I have a right to know what’s going on,’ he said eventually.
‘I — he’s my lawyer. I asked him about selling my property.’
‘Oh sure. Over a fancy dinner at Highlands Hall. Notorious dirty weekend venue for the rich and famous. I assume you’d have stayed over with him if I hadn’t spotted you.’
‘Todd. I’m going to tell you the whole truth and nothing but the truth.’ She stopped short of adding — so help me God. ‘The man is my lawyer. I wanted his advice about my property. He suggested dinner. We talked, then headed back to the car.’
‘Fine, fine. All the lawyers I deal with meet their clients in a respectable office during business hours. So why Highlands Hall? Late on a Friday evening?’
‘I…it was about…not legal stuff. To do with selling the property. I have to come to terms with something I feel very badly about.’
‘Like making a pile of money?’
‘It’s not like that. The locals — they see it as a sellout. Letting the developers in. Trashing my grandmother’s dreams. You know about my mother. Her heart. The transplant she desperately needs. I have to —’
‘So you had dinner in a seriously fancy restaurant, with a man built like an oversized Greek statue, to talk about selling your place. Nothing more.’
‘Exactly.’ She stopped. She’d told him the truth — well ninety-nine percent of it anyway. What Todd did with it was his business. After all, they’d broken up months before. Why should she put up with another second of his bullying?
‘Know something, Eri?’ Todd sounded weary. ‘I’m prepared to give you the benefit of the doubt. I assume you’d have more sense than to get familiar with a country guy fresh off the turnips. I trust you not to mistake brawn for intelligence. Let me give you a word of advice. From this moment on, you are not to —’
The head of steam that had been building inside Erin reached red on her pressure gauge. Why should she bother to listen to any more of the sanctimonious, self-centred drivel that he mouthed every second of the time they spent together. She’d put up with it for six years. Enough!
‘Thank you, Todd,’ she snapped. ‘And goodbye. For the last time.’ She clicked her phone shut and put on the kettle. She needed a coffee to stop her shakes. In the last twenty four hours, her life had turned into a mangled wreck. She pictured a smashed car lying at the bottom of a ravine, at the end of a trail of bits and pieces of torn metal.
That wreck was her love bond with Hamish. First, she’d hurt a man she loved. A decent man, with principles she respected. Not that the times she spent with Hamish, or the love for him that she’d admitted to herself, could ever lead to anything. From now on, he’d work at hating her, withdrawing from her life.
Then Todd. Like a ghost from the past, he’d come back to haunt her. As always, his timing was dead wrong. He’d phoned her the very moment she’d ordered herself to forget him, bury the memories of her time with him in the deepest hole on earth.
She took her coffee onto the veranda. She’d drink it as she looked out over the sea, count her blessings, begin the painful job of planning her future. Practical Pig tapped her on the shoulder. She could treat herself to five minutes of reminiscing, then hit that laptop.
Later that morning, as Erin walked to town to buy last-minute groceries, she saw Hamish from a distance. He was heading back to his office from Sarah’s, paper cup in hand. She ventured a wave. She watched as he recognised her. Then he turned away, crossing the road to avoid her.
Back at the cottage, she threw herself at her computer, polishing the last of the Katy stories that might soon be — dream on, dream on— a movie or a TV series. After a long day where every second had been a struggle, she gave in to her bed’s seductive call, creaking with tiredness as she showered, then collapsing between the sheets. Tomorrow would have to be a better day.
It was. Inspired by the turn her writing and drawing had taken, she locked herself into the project for a final day, then put the finishing touches to her packing for Los Angeles. That left her three days of peace — time to ground herself, prepare for the most important moment in her career. How should she spend those days? If her mother hadn’t been in hospital, they could have spent precious time together. Then, as if her grandmother’s ghost had whispered to her, she suddenly knew. She would spend a night at Sea Eagle’s Nest.
Next morning she filled a backpack with a collection of interesting cans: soup, pasta, salmon, anchovies, and other oddities. She bundled her sleeping bag into a roll, packed a bottle of wine, some books and some water. An hour later, she climbed down the ladder, jumped the last half metre, and walked into the cave. She fought to forget the moment Hamish had taken her in his arms and lifted her down from the ladder. As she stepped into the darkness of the cave, she sensed a warm, loving presence — her grandmother’s spirit had come to welcome her.
Dropping the backpack onto the little table, she set her provisions on the shelves — a way to thank her grandmother’s ever-present smiling ghost. A few minutes later, as she opened the door of a little cupboard, her eye caught a dusty manila folder on a shelf. She opened it. A pile of dog-eared papers, all filled with her grandmother’s scrawly writing, spilled out.
For Erin, when she turns 21, she read at the top of one faded page. Could it be that the old woman had left the papers there for her granddaughter to read after her death? She read on.
Today my one and only beautiful grandchild turns twelve. Lately, she has grown; shot up like a bean pole, as the saying goes. I think she is going to be one of those tall willowy beauties you see in the fashion magazines. She must get it from my mother Ellen.
I love her, and I want her to remember me, remember the special times she gave me during her visits. Each time I collect her from the bus stop at the start of her summer holidays, my heart leaps. We reconnect with the wonderful feelings we shared over her last holiday, and our love grows like the ever-blossoming Peace rose I have in a corner of my garden.
To that end, I want Erin to inherit my Luna Bay property. It will be a fitting way to perpetuate the memory of my beloved Henry. She knows he died when his ship exploded not far from here. Sometimes I sit back and dream a dream. Erin is sitting right here in the Sea Eagle’s Nest. Two little children play at her feet. She points to the sea and tells them about their great-grandfather Henry Spenser, and his wartime exploits. Henry will hear them from wherever he now resides, and smile. He loved family history, and he will know that the Spenser family’s future all hangs on our Erin.
Erin couldn’t hold back a sob. She must apologise to her grandmother in some fitting way when she sold the property, as sell it she must. Grandma Spenser would understand that her daughter-in-law Helen’s life was at stake, literally. If she were here now, she’d smile and nod, and tell Erin that she was glad she’d been able to help the fragile, always put-upon Helen.
Erin’s eye caught another page, headed
To The Love of My Life, Henry Oswald Spenser
Dearest Henry,
Wherever you are now, my only beloved, you will know how our love was so strong that death could not part us. I have made this place a shrine to that love. Indeed, you will remember that we discovered this unlikely cleft in the cliff face as we sailed down the coast in your beautiful yacht, the Sea Eagle. I remember it was a calm day, with the sails barely moving. Then you, binoculars clapped to your eyes, saying ‘Look, Edna. A cave up there. What a view it must have. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to buy that land, explore that cave, spend time together there of an evening, arm in arm, looking out over the glorious Pacific.’
Ah, those heady first years of our marriage! The sea was always in your blood, dearest Henry. Somehow it is fitting that your bones lie out there, most likely within a day’s sail of this spot. You will know that true to your wish, after your death I sought out this beautiful stretch of coast, and bought the very portion that houses the cave you showed me. It is, in every way, beloved, the place where our two souls will stay forever.
Erin hesitated. She was here to open her soul to whatever message the universe might choose to send her. Within minutes, she’d had a message from her dead grandmother. She put the papers back into the folder and tucked it into her backpack. As she did, she whispered a message to her grandmother.
‘Dearest Grandma, I love this place, as you knew I would. I wish, wish I could keep it, pass it on to children I might have, ask them to treasure it as I did. But, forgive me, Grandma, my mother’s life is important to me too. Please give me your blessing for what I have to do.’
She laid her sleeping bag on the narrow bed. It looked almost inviting. Then she unfolded a deckchair she’d discovered in the gloom of the cave and parked it outside the entrance. The view of the sea was more than breathtaking. It embraced her very soul. She pulled out a book. Dancing to the Rhythm of Love, it was called — a self-help title from the hundreds her mother had chomped through over her last twenty years. The sick woman had given the book to her daughter last Christmas, hinting that there was a special message in it for her. Inevitably, Erin hadn’t got around to reading it yet. Now would be the perfect time.
As dusk settled over the sea, its mauve surface morphed into dark blue, violet, then inky darkness. Sipping her wine as she lay back in the deckchair, Erin knew it was right to be in this hallowed space. In perhaps a few days, when the property changed hands, it would be lost to her forever. Finding her grandmother’s letters was a dividend she hadn’t expected. If she hadn’t rescued those dog-eared pages, the rest of her life would have lacked a magical connection with the old woman. Soon, she’d take time to read the rest of them. She imagined showing them to her children, telling them stories about the lovely person they’d never get to meet in this life.
As she slipped back into the warmth of the cave, Erin cogitated. She’d write down her innermost thoughts — ideas she could scarcely admit to herself. She fished in her backpack for paper and pen, and wrote before inhibitions clouded the ideas now flooding her mind.
I love Hamish Bourke. I didn’t want to, but I do. I could never have married Todd Archer. Long ago, our paths diverged beyond the point where we could ever be happy together. Too bad about our parents and their small-time wishes for a bunch of happy little grandchildren to swim in their pool or play on their tennis court.
I doubt Hamish will ever know how I feel for him. I doubt I’ll ever see him again. So be it. I need to put on this paper the truth I’m now privileged to see.
Hamish is a beautiful spirit. His work, his energy will live on. I only wish I could have been with him as he sets about saving the beauty of this special part of the planet.
I will survive. I will work at my dreams. And I will never forget Hamish Bourke as long as I live.
Erin Spenser.
She folded the paper, tucked it into an envelope, and put it in the cupboard that had held her grandmother’s folder. It reminded her of the times she’d put flowers on the old woman’s grave, an act to honour someone she’d loved. The envelope might lie in the cupboard unread for a century — a millennium even. It was unlikely the property’s new owner would ever find this sacred place. Good.
Next afternoon, feeling as fresh as if she’d just surfaced from an expensive spa weekend, Erin climbed the rope ladder back to the cottage and reality. After a final phone call to her mother’s hospital, she’d be ready to leave for Sydney on the airport bus that called at the Luna Bay post office at five next evening.
‘We expect to have a donor heart ready in the next twenty four hours,’ the nurse told Erin. ‘Then we’ll operate. It’s quite a long procedure. You could call us the day after tomorrow. Around this time.’
‘I’m flying out to Los Angeles tomorrow morning.’ Erin reeled, fought to control her sobs. Her trip had happened at absolutely the worst possible time. ‘I’m not sure if I can —’
‘If you give us a number, an email address, we’ll contact you as soon as the op is finished.’
‘Thank you.’ Erin gave the nurse the number of their LA hotel and her email address. If everything went to plan, she’d be able to get in touch around the time her mother would be conscious and resting after her operation. She hung up, told herself that the news was as good as it could be for the moment.
Meeting Stacey Hill at the airport began a string of nail-biting moments for Erin. She was tired from the long bus ride, worried about her mother, fighting heartsickness for the wonderful man she’d lost. Stacey showed up at the appointed meeting place, a mere half-hour late.
‘Taxis! Never on time when you need them!’ Stacey apologised. ‘Let’s hope it’s smooth sailing from here on.’
The next hours played out like a bad movie — sleeplessness, boredom, as the plane lumbered on through the dark. Then the landing at LA’s perpetually smoggy airport, the taxi to the hotel, and twelve blissful hours of oblivion in a comfortable bed. As Erin lay half awake in the gloom of early morning in the foggy city, some friendly ghost told her that a life-changing event would happen any moment soon.