Love Notes from Vinegar House (8 page)

“What do you want?” Rumer stood at the door behind me, slightly out of breath.

“Where have you been?” I asked.

“I went for a jog,” she said.

I looked down at her high-heeled boots and couldn’t imagine Rumer running anywhere.

“Is that my red top?” she snapped.

“Yes, I–”

She snatched it out of my hands and held it close to her chest.

“Mrs Skelton must have thought it was mine,” I said.

Rumer grunted.

“You brought your laptop with you,” I said.

She shrugged. “I need it. For study. This is a very important school year for me.”

“Bet Grandma doesn’t know it’s here.”

“Who cares?” She shrugged again, then looked quickly over her shoulder into the hall. “I need it,” she repeated. “Anyway, she can’t tell me what to do.”

“Mrs Skelton must know you have it.” I couldn’t imagine Mrs Skelton not knowing everything that was going on in the house.

“And?”

“Grandma doesn’t even have the internet on here.”

Rumer pointed to the USB modem plugged into the computer’s side. “Dad insisted I come and spend some quality time with Grandma. There was no way I was coming without my laptop.”

I wondered if Rumer understood what “quality time” meant.

“I need to get changed,” said Rumer. “I’m sweaty after that walk.”

“I thought you went for a jog–”

“Freya!”

“Maybe I could use it sometime,” I pointing to the laptop, “just now and then?”

“Hmm,” she said, in a way that meant there was no way in hell I’d be able to.

“You’ve got to let me–” I pleaded.

Mrs Skelton stopped at the doorway.

“I need a hand moving a rug downstairs,” she said looking at me. “The one in the drawing room.”

Rumer moved to stand next to me, blocking the view of the laptop from Mrs Skelton’s gaze.

“Will you be helping too?” Mrs Skelton asked Rumer, dryly.

“I need to get changed,” said Rumer, still holding her red top.

“Right. Just you then,” said Mrs Skelton addressing me. She turned away. “You might want to keep that computer thing more hidden. Your grandmother’s likely to burn it if she sees it.”

I followed Mrs Skelton into the hallway.

“Oh,” said Mrs Skelton. “I had a message. Mrs Kramer wants a word with her.” She nodded towards Rumer’s room.

“I’ll tell her,” I said.

I went back and found Rumer frantically going through the pocket of her red top.

“Grandma wants to see you–”

“Get out!” she barked.

As I left the bedroom door slammed behind me.

I didn’t hear Rumer and Grandma’s discussion, but when Rumer came downstairs for lunch an hour later, she seemed to have found her best manners. She asked politely for the salt, kept her elbows off the table and even smiled at one point. I watched her pick at Mrs Skelton’s steak and kidney pie, which was more kidney than steak. I wondered why people thought it was okay to eat offal when there were plenty of other things to eat in the world.

I would prefer to eat cardboard rather than kidneys. Seriously.

I hid the kidneys under a piece of piecrust and doused the rest of it in tomato sauce to hide the taste. We were eating in silence, as always, when my phone began to bark (my latest ringtone which drove Deefa nuts when he heard it), and I nearly fell off my chair. I’d been waiting on a call from Mum and had left the phone in my pocket, but I thought I’d switched it to silent mode.

“What is that noise?” said Grandma, glaring my way.

“Sorry, Grandma. I think it’s Mum.” I moved into the hall and checked my phone to discover that Isabella had tried to call me.

Ring u later
, I texted back, then turned my phone to silent and shoved it into my pocket. I considered skipping the rest of lunch and going back up to my room, but I knew I’d have to face Grandma eventually. Back at the table, Rumer had moved her meal from one side of the plate to the other.

“Well?” asked Grandma.

“Everything’s fine,” I mumbled.

“Please tell your mother to feel free to ring the home line,” said Grandma.

“I think it’s cheaper by mobile.”

Grandma nodded. Being thrifty was something she understood.

“So, Grandma, whose room am I sleeping in?” I asked.

“You know perfectly well that was your father’s room.” She placed her knife and fork together on the plate and pushed it to one side.

“No, I mean, whose room was it before it was Dad’s?”

“It was used as a guestroom when I first arrived here as a bride. As to who used it before that…?” She waved her hand dismissively. “Is there something wrong with the room?”

“No, no. I just wondered,” I said, lamely.

“Fine,” said my grandmother, gathering crumbs from the tablecloth and depositing them on her plate. “And your room, Rumer?”

“Is good, thanks, Gran,” said Rumer in her best demure voice, though I saw her nostrils flare.

“That’s just as well – you’ve hardly left your room since you’ve arrived. Are you ill?”

“Study,” said Rumer. “I have exams soon.”

“Your uncle Stephen was a very studious boy,” said Grandma. “Of course, he’s a doctor now. Is that your plan, Rumer? To be a doctor?”

Rumer shrugged. “I’m not sure, Grandma. I thought I might do something in multimedia.”

“Computers?”

“Kind of.”

“I suppose that’s your father’s influence.” Grandma shook her head as if incredibly disappointed. Uncle Lawrence worked in IT, which Grandma refused to believe was a job. “Hmm, while I admire your work ethic, I believe in moderation in all things. You should take a walk when you finish your lunch and get some fresh air. Both of you. Stay away from the bluff path though; its edges are eroding and it’s quite dangerous. I should get Mr Chilvers to have a look at that. There is just so much to do around here …” She stared out through the windows without finishing her sentence.

Rumer threw her table napkin over her lunch plate to hide her uneaten food. “Great idea, Gran. I’ll just go upstairs and get changed.”

“Take your coats in case the weather turns, girls,” said Gran. “It’s quite fickle this time of year.”

Rumer and I bustled out of the dining room, away from the dreaded kidney pie and Grandma Vinegar. But as I closed the door, I caught a glimpse of Grandma. She was still looking towards the window, slumped in her seat. She seemed sad.

I turned my back on her and quietly closed the door.

I grabbed a coat and a scarf from my room, used the downstairs bathroom (I was avoiding the upstairs bathroom whenever possible) and waited at the front door for ten minutes before Rumer eventually made an appearance. Instead of thanking me for waiting, she swished past me. I felt like locking the door behind her and going upstairs to my room, but changed my mind when I turned to see Grandma watching me through the open dining room door. I gave Grandma a little wave then ran after Rumer down the driveway.

“Where are we going?” I asked, following as usual.

“To the beach, of course,” she said.

She walked ahead of me, talking on her mobile and laughing every now and then. It was the happiest I had seen her since I’d arrived at Vinegar House.

There were two ways to access the beach at the bottom of the bluff. One way was to follow the road in a meandering path down to a sheltered area enclosed by tea-trees, then traipse through the dunes, until you reached the beach on the other side. This took at least 20 minutes on the way down and longer coming back up. The second way was to take a short cut down the beach access track that one of our long-dead relatives had hacked into the side of the bluff many years ago. This route only took five minutes, though the final section of path was inaccessible during high tide. It was also highly dangerous and forbidden by the adults.

At the end of the driveway, Rumer turned left towards the short route.

“Short cut?” I said.

“She won’t know,” said Rumer.

We looked back at the house. Someone was flapping a tablecloth out near the front door. We both turned right and took the long way down to the beach.

Rumer seemed back to her old self, chattering away about nothing much. I did notice there was no mention of a boyfriend, which was strange, as Rumer had been talking about boyfriends ever since she learned to speak.

“Are you still going out with Gerard?” I asked when she stopped talking long enough to take a breath.

“Gerard?” Her face was a question mark, then it cleared as she laughed and said, “Oh, Gerard. That was ages ago.”

“So who is it now?” I was kicking a clod of earth down the path, so I wasn’t really paying attention. When it took Rumer more than two seconds to answer, I looked up to see a strange expression on her face.

“No one,” she said quickly. “I’m not seeing anyone at the moment.”

I snorted.

“It’s true,” she said, with a toss of her head. “Not that it’s any of
your
business. I’ve decided to concentrate on my studies this year.”

This sounded like an Uncle Lawrence suggestion rather than an idea from Rumer.

“But you have someone in mind?” I guessed.

Her cheeks were flushed, though it could have just been the cold wind affecting them.

“Maybe,” she said. “And is Isabella still a free agent?”

I nodded. I noticed she didn’t ask me if I had a boyfriend. Probably thought I was too young. Or too ugly.

“Do you remember that time you tried to swim to Seal Rock?” she said with a laugh, one hand shielding her eyes as she looked out to sea.

“I wasn’t trying to swim to Seal Rock,” I said.

I had tried to swim to Seal Rock a couple of months after Rumer had ruined my summer holiday at Ocean Side. The Harts needed to go to Port Eden for the weekend to check out a college for Megan, and Luke had resisted going along with them. Mum offered to take him with us to Vinegar House for the weekend. She seemed to think I would be pleased. Sometimes parents are so dense.

We left straight after school on the Friday. Dad was due to arrive later that night, something to do with work, which is why we had extra room in the car. I sat in the back, looking out the window, glad that Luke was a whole Oscar body width away from me. He and Oscar spent the trip going through Oscar’s swap-card album. Luke tried talking to me a couple of times, but I had my earbuds in and pretended I couldn’t hear him.

I expected things might get a little strange when Luke and Rumer met up again, but she greeted him as if they were old friends, and the moment passed smoothly. The twins, Angus and Lee, seemed glad to have another male ally. Uncle John and Aunty Wendy were arriving with their brood the next day and Isabella couldn’t wait for Julia to get there.

That first night I went straight to bed after a dried out roast dinner – Mrs Skelton had excelled herself making sure that there was not even a drop of moisture left in the meat – claiming I had a headache. I could hear the thump and laughter of the others from the Blue Room. Probably playing Murder in the Dark, I thought, as I squeezed my eyes shut and willed sleep to come.

Uncle John and his family arrived by lunch the next day. Julia practically fell out of the car, grabbed onto Isabella and begged to be saved from her young brothers. The boys were totally out of control after their long journey. Aunty Wendy ushered the little ones into the kitchen for a treat, and Mum suggested the rest of us should take advantage of the good weather. Mrs Skelton had packed a picnic for us because the adults needed to talk business and wanted us out of the way. I didn’t feel like going anywhere with Luke Hart, but there was no way I could get out of it without making it seem obvious. Rumer insisted on carrying the picnic basket and struggled earnestly, until Luke shyly sidled up to her and offered to take the basket from her. She brushed at a stray hair fallen over her face and thanked him as if that hadn’t been her plan all along. I couldn’t believe he could be so stupid – again.

No one talked about where we would go for lunch. We followed the driveway down to the bluff, ignored the DO NOT ENTER sign, then walked single file, carefully navigating the path down to the beach. Rumer was wearing ridiculous shoes without any tread which left her sliding over the tiny rocks that littered our way. When Luke offered her a helping hand I felt a pain like the thrust of a knife in my gut.