Stone Castles (8 page)

It was worth what the salon charged. Well worth it.

Bypassing the fish and chip shop close to the car park, she headed for the coffee shop overlooking the beach. It wasn't like she was avoiding the fish and chip shop, even though it was the place she'd spent more than a few Friday nights with Luke a lot of years ago.

It was just that the coffee shop looked new and trendy and had a great view over the beach.

That was all.

She found a small table free and gave her order for coffee and then, on a whim and with a promise to herself to do an extra spin class next week, decided on a sliver of lemon tart to go with it.

To her left, the Wallaroo jetty was as long and crooked as she remembered, with a huge ship was berthed out in the dark blue waters that signalled the deep. The massive silos rose high above the shore, connected to the ship by a conveyor belt hidden in a long white tunnel that snagged out at right angles to the jetty.

Just like it always had. She loved that some parts of the now meshed with the past she remembered. She'd forgotten how much she had loved these beaches when she was a kid. She loved the colours of the sea – the clear sandy shallows fading into turquoise as the water gradually deepened, before the abrupt dark line that indicated the start of the channel.

Her family had celebrated Christmas at Moonta Beach once, just for fun, although the day had ended early when the wind had come up and they'd all ended up eating sand with their Christmas turkey. She and Trent hadn't cared though. They'd spent most of their time playing in the clear aqua waters and laughing with Gran, who'd tucked her floral dress into her long drawers and had cackled her head off as she splashed like a kid through the shallows.

She smiled at the memories.

Dear, dear Gran.

The end of an era indeed.

Her lemon pie was sweet and tart when it arrived, the coffee strong and bitter. The perfect combination, she thought, as she texted Rikki and begged him to fit her in. She was pushing it, she knew, being so close to the holidays, but like the best doctors, Rikki always kept space free for emergencies – and she was one of his longest and most loyal clients and this was definitely an emergency. Nothing, least of all a wayward curl, was going to come between her and this job.

Next she emailed her travel agent and asked her to find a flight home on Thursday or Friday so she'd be back in time for the weekend, and then she sat back and drank in the view. The shaded terrace overlooked the sunlit beach and the only downside was that she could also see the fish and chippery she'd avoided going to because it reminded her of Luke.

She angled her chair away. She refused to let Luke hijack her thoughts. She refused to let memories of their past or concerns about seeing him again rattle her and ruin the peace of this place. She could cope with him being Chloe's godfather, of course she could.

And she'd show him she was over him in the process.

So instead of thinking about Luke, she concentrated on the rhythm of the tiny waves that shooshed in and out, and Pip actually felt her pulse slow with it, relaxing for the first time in days. Weeks. Probably months if she thought about it.

But that last week or so had been the maddest – the rush to get here in the hopes of saying goodbye. She sighed. Even though Gran hadn't known it was her, she'd known someone was there, and Pip was glad she'd come.

And now, in just a few short days, she would be back in New York City.

Mad really.

But soon was good too. Because once she was back there, this feeling of belonging and yet not belonging – this feeling that some piece of the puzzle of her life was missing – would be gone and everything would slide back into its proper perspective.

It would be easier to think once she was back. In New York she'd be so busy with work that she wouldn't have time to fret about secrets and unresolved mysteries in a tiny place half a world away.

Especially once she got this promotion.

Excitement zinged through her at the prospect.

The job was hers, her boss had all but told her. She had the inside running. All she had to do was be confident and show the UK Vice President that she had the goods.

She could do that.

Damn it to hell, she
would
do that.

She sipped her coffee and toyed with her sliver of tart, still wondering at the choice and trying not to think of the calories – even if she had skipped lunch – because dessert had never been a food choice she'd taken in New York. This place really was messing with her head. She turned to the view instead. There was a tugboat moored out in the blue depths, a tugboat that swayed and danced with the shifting tide, and it was serene and beautiful and a million miles from New York City.

And if she concentrated on the swaying tugboat and the loading ship and the lemon tart that graced her plate, she could almost ignore the shouts and laughter of the young kids hanging out over at the fish and chip shop, the boys in board shorts and bare chests, the girls in bikinis or shorts, the teenagers that reminded her of the girl she'd been, and all the times she'd been here with Luke. Buying a pizza or fish and chips and eating them on the wall overlooking the beach, or sitting on the rocks that lined the shore.

She could almost forget about holding hands and kissing late into the night. Getting hot and heavy before pulling back and going home, still wanting . . .

Oh good grief, what was she thinking?

What was the point of dredging all that up again?

That was her past.

This place might be pretty, but it was her past.

Once upon a time she might have stayed. If things had worked out differently, if she'd grown up like everyone else out here, knowing who you were and confident of your place in the world, she could have. But then, what kind of life would that have been, stuck here on the Yorke Peninsula for life?

Whereas she'd left, and seen what life could offer, and maybe her work life was filled with numbers and spreadsheets and reports, but living somewhere else could offer lots – especially in New York City.

Wanting a distraction, she snapped a photo of the tug atop the turquoise waters and under the clear blue sky and sent it to Carmen with a message:

It's a tough life.

Carmen came back to her a moment later.

I hate you. It's snowing here!

I'm wearing shorts.

I'm wearing everything I own.

And she attached a selfie of herself rugged up on the sofa with a furry hat and mittens and a big blanket wrapped around her, and Pip laughed out loud. Carmen seriously felt the cold. She'd grown up in California and hated New York's winters.

You would so love it out here.

Stop torturing me! Have you seen the cop?

No.

And Pip wondered that she hadn't even spared Adam a thought. Then again, she hadn't exactly been sitting on her hands waiting for his call. And it wasn't like he'd made any attempt to contact her. A throwaway line to make conversation when he'd pulled her over? Probably.

Carmen sent a sad face.

If you do, send me a pic.

Sure. Oh, and I should be home in a week.

Oh. Sorry Pip, I should have asked. Does that mean?

Gran passed away last night.

I'm sorry.

It's ok.

And it was. She looked out at the shifting blue of the sea and knew that it was, that despite the wrench of loss, her gran was in a better place.

Right now I'm chilling out and soaking up the sun.

Go you good girl!

Just make sure you bring that sunshine back with you.

And the tugboat.

And the cop.

Not sure it'll all fit in my carry on.

You're in business class and I've seen your carry on. It'll fit.

Pip smiled as she settled the bill and headed back to the car. She missed Carmen. It would be good to get home.

But snow? Callan would be thrilled to hear it. She wasn't sure she was. She was just starting to enjoy the feel of the sun on her skin again. Icy pavements and slush filled kerbs weren't exactly her favourite things about the city. But that was the only downside to going home.

That and missing her friends right here.

Chapter Twelve

T
he potato salad had been made, a green salad tossed and a bottle of Clare Valley riesling opened and tested by both women to ensure it was drinkable, when the twin cab ute pulled up outside the house.

‘They're here!' Tracey said with a squeeze to Pip's arm, and they made it outside in time to see two red headed boys all but explode from the back seat, the three farm dogs barking in pursuit. Richard climbed out and yelled after them, ‘And stay away from the machinery shed this time!' and Tracey leaned towards Pip.

‘Little monkeys started up one of the tractors last time they were here,' she said, and sent Ben and Callan off to supervise.

And Pip would have laughed, except Fiona had emerged from the passenger side, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, her lips turned up in the corners in a tremulous smile. ‘Hello stranger,' she said to Pip, and promptly burst into tears.

‘Oh god, Fi,' said Tracey, wrapping her in her arms while the men disappeared to sort out the barbecue and check the beer situation. ‘Come inside, we've got a bottle of wine open.'

‘Wine!' she wailed between sobs, before hauling Pip into the circle of their arms and giving her friend a squeeze. ‘It's so good to see you! I'm so sorry to hear about your gran.'

‘Hey Fi,' Pip said, hugging her right back and wishing whatever was worrying her away. ‘We've been so concerned about you. Come on inside and we'll pour you a glass.'

‘No,' she said, as they led her towards the house. ‘No wine. But I sure could use a gun.'

‘Come on, Fi,' said Pip exchanging glances with Tracey over their friend's head. ‘Nothing can be that bad.'

But Fi burst into tears all over again. ‘You want to bet?' she wailed. ‘I'm pregnant.'

‘What?'

‘And it's sodding twins again!'

Tracey looked aghast at Pip, and Pip looked askance at Tracey, and they bundled her inside.

The men were slaving over a hot barbecue, the boys and dogs no doubt up to mischief somewhere, and the women were gathered in the kitchen with Fi talking about what had gone wrong.

‘So I go in for fibroids and I'm prepped and ready and they do a scan – again – and this time they find what they think is a bloody heartbeat, so they send me to Adelaide because they're not sure what's going on. And when I get there they do some fancy new scan, only now they find
two
heartbeats. What are the chances? Twins again. Oh my god, I might as well shoot myself now.'

‘You are not going to shoot yourself!'

She nodded, already halfway to her feet. ‘You're right. I'm going to shoot Richard. He promised me he'd get the snip. He damn well promised me. Where's that gun?'

‘Hey,' Tracey said, with a hand on her arm to hold her down. ‘They don't have to be boys this time. You might have girls. You might get a couple just like Chloe that sleep through the night at four weeks.'

Fi hiccupped. ‘Two sodding chances of that,' she sulked, looking morose as she sipped on a lemon squash. ‘Buckley's and none. Oh, I should have known. I should have known. I'm craving steak every other night. I should have known!'

‘Hey, if it's any consolation,' Pip offered, ‘we were really worried about you. We thought you must be really sick.'

Fi laughed, if you could call the hysterical noise she made a laugh, and pointed at her belly with both hands. ‘You mean there could be something worse than this?' She shook her head. ‘Last time I was pregnant I spent six months kneeling in front of the toilet bowl, and I've spent the five years since they were born wishing I could trust the little bastards alone long enough to sit on it. They've just started school and the shop's finally going well and I thought, I really thought, I was going to have a chance at getting my life back. But now . . .'

She looked like she was going to burst into tears again so Pip poured her some more squash and because that hardly seemed any kind of consolation, pushed a bowl of potato chips closer to her.

Fi reached for a chip and held it in front of her face. ‘Five years of Weight Watchers to get back into shape after those two ratbags bent me out of it. And for what? Bam!' And with that she stuffed the potato chip into her mouth.

‘Sorry,' said Pip, reaching for the bowl.

‘No!' Fi said, snaffling it closer as she crunched. ‘I'm raw. I'm upset. And I'm damn well pregnant! Do not deny me my chips!'

Pip shook her head. ‘Hell no ma'am!' and reached for the wine to fill up the glasses instead.

‘No more for me,' said Tracey, with her hand over her glass. ‘I'm still breastfeeding so I'm on the squash from now on. But because I'm breastfeeding – thank you, Chloe – I get the chips too.' And she grinned and reached over and plucked a couple from Fi's bowl. ‘You have the wine, Pip. You're drinking for three now.'

Pip looked at the half-finished bottle and said, ‘Where's the fun in drinking alone? We're all in this together, girls. Someone pass me the squash.'

And across the table Fi laughed, really laughed, for the first time, her brown eyes sparkling like Pip remembered. ‘Oh, Priscilla Martin, where have you been all this time?' Until a second later those eyes clouded over, like she'd remembered exactly where Pip had been and why she was back. ‘Oh Pip, how stupid of me. I haven't even said I'm sorry about your gran.'

Pip shook her head. ‘It's okay.'

‘No, it's not. You must still be raw. Were you with her?'

She nodded, her lips tightly pressed together while she got herself under control. ‘She slipped away peacefully. Just took one last breath and was gone.'

Fi leaned over and patted her hand, a soft, sad smile on her face. ‘Such a love, she was. It's so good you could be here.' She sniffed and sat up straight, lifting her glass. ‘I know, let's have a toast – to Violet Cooper.'

They all raised and clinked glasses. ‘To Violet,' and the mood around the table became more sombre for a few seconds.

‘She was a treasure, your gran,' said Fi, sounding wistful.

‘One of the best,' agreed Tracey.

‘Remember her butterfly cakes? God, they were so good.'

Tracey laughed a little. ‘I remember her at your sixteenth birthday party, running around in her pinny with plate after plate of butterfly cakes and home-made sausage rolls.'

‘Oh my god! And the fairy bread!' laughed Fi, ‘how long was it since we'd had fairy bread? That was awesome.'

Pip laughed. ‘And I remember Mum running around after her, telling her to slow down.'

‘She had more fun that day than anyone,' Tracey said on a chuckle.

They settled back into silent reflection for a few moments, before Fi suddenly snorted and covered her face with her hand.

‘What?'

‘I'm sorry, Pip. I was just remembering those bathers she made for you one Christmas.'

‘That white bikini!' said Tracey, her blue eyes lit with laughter.

Pip dropped her head into her hands. ‘Oh no, please don't go there!'

‘And you wore them to the pool that day –'

‘And when they got wet they turned see through –'

‘And that kid yelled out, look at that girl's hairy fanny!'

‘Don't!' cried Pip, as her so-called friends snorted with laughter, but she laughed too, shaking her head as she remembered the shock and the humiliation.

‘And then,' Tracey said, her hand over her heart as she recovered, ‘Luke wrapped you in a towel and took you home.'

‘Such a hero,' said Fi with a wistful sigh. ‘So gallant.'

Pip stopped laughing, a heavy weight lodging in her gut. How on earth had the conversation got around to Luke? She reached for the wine, remembered she was on the squash, and sighed. Soft drink wasn't going to cut it right now. Then she spotted the chips. She shouldn't. She knew she shouldn't – especially not after eating cake earlier – but still she reached for the bowl and took a chip feeling the unfamiliar grease and salt on her fingers, and wondering where her dietary resolve had disappeared to. Chad would be horrified if he could see her right now. For some reason, that made her smile. ‘Take that, Chad!'

Her friends both frowned. ‘Who?'

She looked at Tracey. ‘You remember Chad,' and she made quote marks in the air with her fingers. ‘That “boyfriend of convenience” I told you about, remember?'

‘You've got a boyfriend over there?' asked Pip.

‘Not so much boyfriend,' Tracey said with a wink. ‘More like a vibrator on legs.'

‘Tracey!'

‘Well, how else would you describe someone you only bonk when you need it, and not because you actually like them?' She shrugged. ‘I rest my case.'

Fi's eyes opened wide. ‘You have someone over there who you sleep with when you need a shag? Wow, have I led a sheltered life.'

‘Anyway,' said Pip, not wanting to dwell on that any longer. ‘Chad is a fitness buff. He runs for miles at a time and he says processed foods are the devil's handiwork and we shouldn't eat anything that isn't made of goji berries or quinoa or raw vegetables. So this baby right here –' she held up a crinkle cut chip ‘– with its wanton combination of carbohydrate, fat and salt, would be the epitome of evil.' She considered the chip a while. ‘God, I hate goji berries,' she said with a grin, before crunching down on the chip, closing her eyes as all those forbidden ingredients combined on her tastebuds in one wicked but delicious pleasure.

‘Well?' said Fi.

‘Oh my god, that's so bad it's awesome,' she said, and Fi laughed as she reached for another.

‘That's the Pip we all know and love. We'll soon knock that New York gloss off you. Not to mention the accent.'

‘I don't have an accent!'

‘You do sound a little American,' said Fi.

‘Though it is getting better than it was when you first got here.'

‘Everyone says I sound like an Aussie over there.'

‘Maybe to them, you do.'

Pip pouted. ‘Anyway, I thought any gloss I had
was
fading. She flicked her hair and found the offending strand. ‘You see this curl?'

Fi squinted. ‘It's hardly a curl. More like a wave.'

‘And that's a problem, because?' Tracey asked.

‘Because it shouldn't be there.'

Tracey frowned as she sipped on her squash. ‘But you've always had wavy hair. Apart from that time in year twelve when you got that short blonde bob. God, you looked sexy with that bob.'

‘I remember that!' Fi said, pushing her fingers through her own shaggy short hair. ‘I wish I could wear my hair like that. That was awesome. But what's the problem?' She shrugged. ‘Just give it an extra blast with the tongs.'

Pip shook her head. ‘That's just it. I don't use tongs. I get it chemically straightened now.'

‘What? You can get your hair straightened permanently?'

‘Well, semi-permanently, I guess. It lasts three to six months usually and it saves a lot of time in the morning when I need to be at work early.'

‘Because your hair needs to be straight to do your job, you mean.'

‘Because I like it straight. I like it to look professional and sleek and under control.'

‘Under control,' repeated Tracey, frowning disconcertingly.

‘So how much does something like that cost, anyway?' asked Fi.

Pip waved the question away, wanting to change the subject. It was crazy talking NY prices. It was a different world. ‘Oh, I don't know. Hey, how good are these chips, eh?' she said, reaching for another. ‘Talk about wicked.'

‘Of course you know,' said Tracey, pulling the bowl away, refusing to be deflected. ‘Finance is your job, whatever your fancy title is. You were always a wiz with numbers. You know damn well what your hair costs, Pip Martin, so stop beating about the bush.'

‘Well, if you must know,' she conceded with a smile, because she might have been away a lot of years, but her friends knew her better than anyone. She named a price that made Tracey's eyes bulge.

Fi's eyebrows rose. ‘And your hair comes out looking like that?'

‘Well, the colouring and cut are extra.'

And Tracey and Fi's mouths dropped before Tracey said, ‘I knew there had to be a catch.'

‘Jeepers,' said Fi. ‘I'd need to take out a second mortgage to pay for that.'

‘Oh, give me a break, you two. It's New York City. Of course it's going to cost more than here.'

‘Sorry, Pip,' said Tracey. ‘We're just jealous because you look so gorgeous. But then you always did.'

‘And you guys don't? You guys look amazing.' And they did, Tracey looking like a blonde madonna with Chloe nestled against her chest, and Fi looking more relaxed now she'd stopped crying and had a few laughs, looking more like the Fiona she remembered, like a pixie with her auburn hair and big brown eyes in a heart-shaped face.

The years between visits melted away and it was just so good to be here in their company.

‘God, but it's good to see you guys. Thank you for making me feel welcome.'

‘What did you expect us to do?' said Fi.

‘This is your home after all,' added Tracey, and Pip got the message, loud and clear.

‘Yeah,' Fi said. ‘Your home, no matter where you keep your vibrator on legs.'

And Tracey looked at Fi and Fi looked at Pip and they all started laughing, and the men came in holding platters of barbecued meat, the kids bowling in like a cloud of locusts behind, and looking at them like they were all mad.