Love Notes from Vinegar House (15 page)

“I haven’t seen you at the jetty. It’s been ages.”

It had been exactly twenty months since I’d stopped trotting down to the jetty on a Saturday morning like a faithful lapdog, waiting for Luke Hart to appear, swinging his bucket and giving me a wave. Nearly two years since he’d first set eyes on Rumer at Ocean Side and fallen under her spell. Basically, a whole lifetime since she’d dumped him like a piece of rubbish. She hadn’t even bothered to find a bin. And yet, he seemed to have forgotten all that.

But I hadn’t.

The thought slid from my mind as I said, “I’ve been busy.”

I felt him shift beside me a little and heard him sigh. I tried not to think about what that sigh might mean. I matched my breathing to the rhythm of the waves breaking on the shore. The sun was making the inside of my eyelids a pulsing red. I felt my body sink further into the sand as my muscles relaxed and my fingers unfurled from their tight fists.

“Have you ever taken the dinghy out?” he asked.

“The what?”

“The dinghy. The little boat over near the rocks.”

“Oh. No. That’s ancient,” I said.

“Pity,” said Luke. “I reckon there’d be fish out there.”

“Hmmmm.”

“I saw some hand reels in the stables.”

“Hmmmm.”

“How’s the play rehearsal going?”

“Yeah, good.” I’d worry about that lie later.

“I think it’s great you’re doing the play.”

I squirmed a little.

“You have something …” he said.

“Hmmmm?”

The light behind my closed eyelids darkened, and I looked up to see Luke leaning over me.

This is what I’d been waiting for since I first saw him working in the garden at Vinegar House.

Strike that.

This is what I’d been waiting for since forever.

I could feel his breath on my face. I smelled his Luke Hart smell that I knew so well. I was drowning in his eyes. If he leaned in a little closer our lips would surely meet like magnets attracted to each other.

“You have …” he grazed my cheek with his fingers and held up a small piece of dried seaweed, “… this on your cheek.”

Then I gasped as someone said, “Oh,
there
you are.”

It was Rumer. My cheeks burned.

Luke rose slowly from the sand and brushed it from him. “You’re up early,” he said to Rumer as if they shared a private joke, and I watched her blush.

I wanted to tell them that I knew. Knew they’d been meeting in the dead of night. But my tongue couldn’t find the words. I felt my Luke Hart slipping away, replaced by the stupid Luke Hart who wrote love notes to my stupid cousin.

“Back to it, I guess,” he said with a smile.

Rumer and I both watched as Luke sauntered up the bluff path then disappeared behind the tea-tree.

“Well, well,” said Rumer. She gave me a piercing look, then turned on her heel and followed him.

And I felt a small thrill of victory, though I hadn’t won anything at all.

Mum was sounding happier each time she rang. I knew I should have been happy too, the way things had worked out. I mean … Nanna was better, Isabella was still on holidays, Oscar hadn’t broken anything, Holly was busy being French, Luke and Rumer were meeting up in the dead of night and everyone was happy, right? Meanwhile, I was stuck at Vinegar House while even Grandma was set to leave the house on her big trip to Port Eden. You’d think she was going on a six-month holiday the amount of fuss that she and Mrs Skelton carried on with.

On Thursday morning I woke early to the sound of banging and thumping down the hallway. I poked my head out to see Mrs Skelton lugging two suitcases down the attic staircase.

“Can I help?” I asked.

“No, no, it’s very early,” said Mrs Skelton. “You just stay in your nice warm bed. I’ll be fine.”

I was getting to understand Mrs Skelton’s language. This meant, “If you don’t want to end up with burnt toast, you’d better help me right now”.

I helped Mrs Skelton who grumbled all the way down the hallway. “Too much luggage for one person, if you ask me,” I heard her say.

We left the empty suitcases at Grandma’s bedroom door, and I went back to my room and chose my clothes for the day.

My hands were freezing and I tried to warm them on the coil heater. When I looked out the window I could see Luke was already up and about. He was pushing the rusted wheelbarrow down the driveway, a hat pulled down around his ears.

I didn’t want to think about Luke any more.

I couldn’t help but think about him.

Night and day.

The air in my bedroom was so cold that my warm breath was fogging the window. I had a sudden urge to go to the attic, but when I checked, the door was locked as usual.

Rumer turned up for breakfast as if to make sure that Grandma was really leaving. After breakfast there was a lot of ordering about from Grandma and running up and down the stairs for last minute things. Finally we were standing in the entry hall waiting for last-minute instructions.

“I need my wrap,” Grandma called out to Mrs Skelton who was snapping suitcase locks at the top of the stairs. I heard the housekeeper grumbling as she left the case in search of the wrap.

Two overnight cases and a large tapestry beauty case already stood at the front door. I was itching to look inside the beauty case, wondering if it was Mrs Skelton’s or Grandma Vinegar’s. I couldn’t imagine either woman needing so many beauty products.

Grandma seemed on edge and distracted.

“I have left a list near the entry hall telephone,” she said, pointing to the phone as if Rumer and I were six-year-olds. “You will find the phone number and address of our motel there, as well as our neighbour’s number, Mr Craddock. In case of emergency.”

The Craddocks lived twenty kilometres as the crow flew, and though they were technically our neighbours, I didn’t see that they’d be much use in the case of an emergency.

“We’ll be fine, Grandma,” said Rumer, impatiently.

Another snap of the locks from upstairs announced Mrs Skelton was back.

“Did you get the paisley wrap, Livinia? I think that’s best for keeping out the chills of Port Eden,” said Grandma as she unzipped then rezipped the case at her feet.

I wondered who Grandma was talking to then realised she meant Mrs Skelton.

Mrs Skelton unbent from her task.

“Paisley wrap?” she repeated.

“Yes, the paisley,” said Grandma. “Now don’t forget to feed the cats,” she continued, looking at me. “A little treat tonight and main meal tomorrow morning. And don’t let them go wandering around outside after dark. I’ve put their cushions in the corner of the kitchen.”

“A wrap’s a wrap, if you ask me,” I heard the housekeeper mutter as she took a lilac-coloured wrap from the case and marched off in the direction of Grandma’s room.

A car horn sounded from the driveway.

“There’s Mr Chilvers now,” said Grandma, as if he’d driven hours to get here, instead of just getting the car out of the ancient garage.

She fussed about, trying to pull up the retractable handle on the case until Rumer grabbed the case from Grandma and pulled the handle up in one swift motion.

“I don’t know what was wrong with the old suitcase design,” said Grandma, looking at Rumer’s black nail polish. “Feel free to use anything you need in the guest bathroom, girls. Sunscreen. Moisturiser. Nail polish remover …”

“All good, thanks, Gran,” said Rumer, gruffly.

“Yes, well, that really isn’t correct grammar–”

The car horn sounded again.

“Oh, Mr Chilvers … Livinia!” called out Grandma.

Mrs Skelton appeared at the top of the stairs. “I can’t find your paisley, Mrs Kramer. Where do you think you’ve put it?”

Grandma waved a hand in the air. “There’s no time to look now, Livinia. Just get the lilac one. That will have to do.”

Mrs Skelton looked like she might tell Grandma what she could do with her lilac shawl.

“Lilac,” repeated Mrs Skelton. “What a good idea.” And again she disappeared.

“So you have the phone numbers, girls,” repeated Grandma. “Mrs Skelton and I shall be back by tomorrow afternoon. Mr Chilvers has some family business to attend to in Port Eden so he won’t be back until much later this afternoon. And then of course he will be leaving before tomorrow lunchtime to pick us up. You can always ring him at the cottage if you need anything tonight. The number’s near the phone. Mrs Skelton has left dinner in the refrigerator for the four of you. You just need to heat it up.”

I wondered who “the four of you were”, then realised that she meant Mr Chilvers and Luke.

“We’ll be fine, Grandma,” said Rumer with a yawn.

“I have my regular medical check-up and my eye specialist tomorrow morning and then a meeting with my solicitor, Mr Lipshut,” continued Grandma Vinegar.

Rumer’s giggle turned into a cough when Grandma looked at her crossly.

“And, of course, Mrs Skelton will be making sure I get to all my appointments on time.” She paused, looking at us closely, eyes narrowed. “Perhaps it’s best if you don’t have a fire in the television room tonight. Remember to turn the wall heating down when you go to bed–”

“Yes, Grandma,” I said, thinking I might not only leave it on but turn it up full bore.

“Make sure Luke stops for lunch today. Mrs Skelton has made his lunch, but he’ll also need a hot drink. The wind is going to turn. I can feel it in my bones.”

“Lunch,” I said. There was no way I was taking Luke his lunch. Rumer could get it for him. There’d be no need to pretend everything was fine any more, now that Grandma was leaving.

“If the power goes out, you’ll find candles in the top drawer next to the wood stove in the kitchen. You’ll find the matches there too.”

“Matches,” I repeated, nodding.

“There are also some torches in the library. You’ll find fresh batteries there as well.”

“Batteries.” I nodded again.

“Sometimes the water heater flame goes out. If you leave the laundry door open that can happen. Wait until Mr Chilvers comes back. He knows how to start it up again. It’s very cantankerous. I don’t want you girls touching it.”

“Right.”

“If Fay Anthony rings about the fundraiser, you can tell her I’m not contributing a cent until I know how my money’s being spent. Last year’s money was spent on a coffee machine at the Port Eden Youth Centre. What are they drinking coffee for? Water’s the best thing for a growing body. Not what I’d call charity.”

“Uh-huh.” I could see Rumer picking away at the polish on her fingernails.

“Charity begins at home, after all,” Grandma said, though this didn’t seem to make sense to me. “I must get Mr Chilvers onto that wall crack before it gets much bigger. Where is that woman?” she said, looking up the stairs.

Grandma picked up the phone and listened for a dial tone as if to make sure it was still working. Rumer yawned loudly.

“Make sure you go outside sometime today and get some air,” said Grandma. “You both spend far too much time hunched over your books. You’ll end up with bad posture and back braces.”

Rumer and I both nodded. I noticed my cousin stood a little straighter and pulled her shoulders back.

“Livinia!” Grandma called out sternly, then she turned back to us. “Now don’t think I don’t know that you’ll turn on the television as soon as I leave. But if it’s on for too long it gets overheated and shuts down. Then you have to leave it off for the rest of the day. Just remember that.”

“Gotcha,” I said.

Grandma frowned. “Maybe you should come with us …”

The
thump, thump, thump
of a case coming down the stairs distracted Grandma from her train of thought. I rushed upstairs to help Mrs Skelton who seemed to be enjoying the noise she was making. Rumer opened the front door and asked Mr Chilvers to help with the luggage, as if she were at the Hilton instead of Vinegar House. Mr Chilvers, not in his work overalls today, hitched up his pants as if unused to such foreign clothes and opened the car boot.

Grandma’s car was an old model Mercedes that reminded me of a luxury liner. Mr Chilvers’s breath rose in clouds about his face in the crisp air as he loaded the luggage into the car boot. Mrs Skelton twisted a long tartan scarf about her neck, then settled herself primly into the back seat. Grandma frowned up at the sky.

“The weather forecaster predicted a sunny day with light winds,” she said, “but I think there’s a thunderstorm coming.”

I looked up at the sky. It was blue and decorated with only a few fluffy white clouds.

“I saw a line of ants in the kitchen this morning. A sure sign of rain,” said Grandma.

“See ya, Grandma,” said Rumer, pointedly.

Grandma Vinegar was still pondering the possibility of a thunderstorm as she sat in the front passenger seat and Mr Chilvers shut her door.

Rumer and I stood in the driveway, waiting for the car to pull out.

“I think she’s losing it,” said Rumer, giving a little wave.

The front passenger door window rolled down as the engine purred into life.

“Lock the doors,” said Grandma. She looked me straight in the eye. “Be careful.”

The last thing I saw as the car drove away was Grandma adjusting a colourful paisley shawl about her shoulders.

Rumer went straight to the TV room, but I had other plans. I was certain that Mrs Skelton would have left her set of keys hanging from one of the key hooks in the kitchen, but when I checked they weren’t there.

“Old bag,” I said, kicking the cupboard door.

Mrs Skelton had obviously taken the keys with her.

Still, there were other ways to get into a locked room. There were plenty of tools in the stables. There was bound to be something there that could open the attic door and the locked trunk.

I’d show her.

Sometimes I think I’m a masochist. I’m always the one to partner Dad at cards, even though he’s never happy with the cards I play. I’m always the one who washes the dog, even though I know I’ll be wearing dog shampoo by the end of it all. And I’m always the one who goes looking for Rumer, even though I know she’s just going to be rude and obnoxious to me.

Before I left for the stables to look for boltcutters, I checked in with Rumer in the TV room. She was watching some loud morning show, her feet propped up on the coffee table in front of her. Grandma Vinegar would have had a fit. I was surprised Luke wasn’t at her side already.