the Beach Cottage, page 10
“Fine. We don’t have to call him if you don’t want me to.”
She started the car and followed Sam’s directions to a small fibreboard house with chipped paint and a red tile roof. Sam leapt from the car as soon as it was parked in the driveway.
Penny stepped out of the car, leaving the door ajar. “Are you okay now?”
Sam nodded. “I take good care of myself.”
“I’m sure you do, but here. I’m going to give you my phone number just in case you need to call someone for help. We all need help sometimes.”
She scrounged around in the car to find a piece of paper and ended up with a petrol receipt. Then a working pen — there was one in the glove box. She wrote her phone number on the receipt and handed it to Sam. “Call me if you need anything, okay? I’m usually just down the road at the refuge. I wrote my full name down on the paper too, Penelope St James, so you can show your dad and let him know you spoke to me.”
Sam smiled for the first time. “Okay. My name’s Samantha Norton.”
“Norton? Do you know Betsy Norton? She runs the flower shop in Kellyville.”
Sam squinted, her nose wrinkled. “No. I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“Oh, okay, just a coincidence then, I suppose. I’ll see you later, Samantha Norton.”
Penny waved goodbye as the car pulled out of the driveway, then waited to make sure the girl went inside the house. Her heart was troubled. No doubt Sam’s father was doing the best he could to take care of his daughter and work at the same time, but someone should be looking out for her when he couldn’t do it. Besides that, Sam’s hair was knotted and greasy, her face dirty, her clothes too small and stained. She wished there was something she could do to help without overstepping.
If she could get in touch with Sam’s father, perhaps she could offer to help the girl. But how to phrase the offer without offending or appearing to be a stalker? She still didn’t know where Sam’s mother might be — although from what the girl had told her, it didn’t seem like she was still in Sam’s life, for whatever reason.
With a brief pause at the intersection, she turned onto the main road and headed for Kellyville. She was meeting Bea and Evie at the café. Perhaps they’d have advice about what she should do.
The smell of coffee and baked goods greeted Penny as soon as she stepped through the retro timber-and-glass front door of the café. A bell tinkled overhead, and she smiled as Bea hurried to greet her. She kissed her cheek, a tray balanced on one hand.
“I’ll be right with you just as soon as I’ve served the table outside.”
“Good to see you!” she called after Bea.
Evie was already seated at a small round table near the back of the café. She was reading a book, but put it down as soon as Penny sat.
“There you are,” Evie declared with a grin. “I’m looking for a book for next month’s book club selection. This one is absolutely breathtaking. I think we have a winner. How’s everything?” She got up to kiss Penny’s cheek, then sat again, crossing one long leg over the other. Her red hair was perfectly curled, her green eyes glinted, and she wore a long blue silk shirt with black pants underneath.
“Everything’s good. Well, okay, not good.” Penny swallowed. She wasn’t being entirely truthful, but did it help to bleed all over her friends? She’d never been one to do that. She always put up a veneer of strength and resilience even when she didn’t feel it. Although with all her high school girlfriends back together, for the first time in years, she wanted to spill, to tell them everything on her mind.
Bea sat down with them, puffing slightly. “There, I’m done for now. I only have two customers, and they’re satisfied. But if anyone else comes in, I’ll have to jump up and wait on them. Sorry!”
“That’s fine,” Evie replied. “Don’t mind us—we’re happy to chat patiently. Aren’t we, Penny?”
“Of course. Very happy.”
Bea hurried off to get them each a coffee and a plate of goodies to eat, then sat again.
“Phew. You make me tired just watching you,” Penny exclaimed.
“This job is harder than I thought it’d be.” Bea wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.
“But do you like it?” Evie asked. “That’s the real question.”
“I love it.” Bea sighed. “I’m getting used to the physical exertion. I think that over time, I’ll be better at it, and then it will all come together beautifully. Right now, I’m constantly reacting to things I didn’t realise I had to do — paperwork, licences, timing for ordering supplies, vendor requirements, that kind of thing.”
“I know what you mean,” Penny said. “I remember that when I started the refuge, it took me a while to figure everything out. I’m still not very good at it.”
“What are you talking about?” Evie asked. “You’re amazing. I don’t know how you manage it all.”
Penny held her breath for a moment. Should she say something? If she did, she knew exactly what would happen—her beautiful friends would offer to help. She also knew none of them could afford it. No, she should keep her troubles to herself. Bothering other people with her mistakes wasn’t fair to them.
“Oh, nothing,” she replied. “Don’t mind me.”
“How’s that delicious nemesis of yours going?” Evie’s eyes twinkled with delight.
Penny huffed. “He’s not delicious.”
“Um…” Bea sipped her coffee.
“Well, maybe he is. But I don’t think of him that way. And he’s fine. He visited, and we had a really nice talk.”
“Well, that is good news.” Evie took a bite out of a small purple macaron. “Wow, Bea, you’ve outdone yourself. This is divine.”
Bea’s cheeks pinked. “Thank you. So glad you like it. I’ve been working on perfecting that recipe for years.”
“I think you’ve done it.” Evie winked at her friend.
“I had another visitor that same day,” Penny continued as she picked up a small caramel slice. She took a bite and almost forgot her train of thought as the sweetness filled her mouth.
“Oh, yes?” Bea enquired, one eyebrow quirked.
Penny swallowed. “A little girl, Samantha Norton. Do you know her?”
Bea shook her head. Evie’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think so, but that name is familiar.”
“Isn’t Norton Betsy’s last name?” Bea asked.
“That’s right,” Penny agreed. “I asked her if she knew Betsy, but she said no. Anyway, she looks a bit neglected, and I keep seeing her around the place on her own during school hours. It seems like no one is making her go to school or taking care of her while her dad’s at work.”
“How old is she?” Bea asked, then sipped her coffee.
“She told me she’s ten. But she looks younger, I think. Not that I’m an expert on the subject. But she’s very thin.”
“We should ask Betsy about it. Maybe she’ll know more.” Evie set down her coffee cup and crossed her arms.
“I really want to do something. I don’t think she has a mother in her life.”
“I’m going to see if Betsy’s around.” Bea quickly sent a text message. Her phone dinged almost immediately. “She says she’s shopping next door and will be right over.”
A few minutes later, after they’d talked about Bea’s children and their visit, Betsy appeared at the front door. She hurried to their table, out of breath, her wild grey curls flung in every direction, and sat down with a humph. She wore a brightly coloured tunic and leather sandals, with a thin silk scarf wound loosely around her neck.
“It’s hot out there today. Hard to believe it’s almost winter, I wish summer would give up already and leave.”
Penny laughed. “I know what you mean. We only get two seasons here, and they’re almost identical.”
They all exchanged pleasantries, and after Bea got a coffee for Betsy and there was a lapse in conversation, Penny spoke up.
“Betsy, I met a little girl a few days ago called Samantha Norton. She wouldn’t be related to you by any chance, would she?”
Betsy’s face paled. “You met Sam?”
Penny hesitated. “Uh, yes. Are you okay?”
Betsy leaned back in her chair. “I’m fine. I haven’t seen her in a while, that’s all.”
“She said she didn’t know you.”
Betsy shrugged. “She wouldn’t remember. It was a long time ago.”
“But aren’t you related?” Bea asked.
“She’s my granddaughter.”
Penny’s eyebrows rose skyward. It was unusual for a grandchild not to recognise the name of her grandmother.
“We’re estranged,” Betsy continued. “My son doesn’t want anything to do with me, so he’s kept me away from her.”
“Even though you both live on the island?” Evie asked, her eyes wide. “That seems impossible — it’s such a small community.”
“We make it work. We don’t tend to run in the same circles. He stays away from Kellyville for the most part. He works on the mainland, so I rarely see him.”
“I’m really sorry to hear that,” Penny said. “I can’t imagine how hard that must be. My parents moved away, but if they were here, I’d want to spend every moment I could with them. I miss them so much.”
Betsy reached out a hand to pat Penny’s. “You’re a sweet girl and a good daughter. Where did you see Sam?”
“She came to the refuge a few days ago, and I fed her cake. Then I saw her playing on the side of the road today, alone. She should be in school, shouldn’t she?”
Betsy sighed. “Yes, she should.” She fell quiet and stirred sugar into her coffee.
“Maybe you could talk to your son?” Bea asked.
Betsy’s lips pulled tight. “I wish I could. He won’t see me.”
“Have you tried lately?” Evie’s face was lined with compassion.
“Not lately. I suppose I could give it another shot. He can’t hold onto the hurt forever, surely.”
“I’ve given Sam my phone number and told her to call me. If she does, I can let you know, and maybe you can see each other,” Penny offered.
Betsy met her gaze. “I’d like that. Thank you.”
“What happened between the two of you?” Bea asked, her voice gentle.
“It was his wife. I didn’t approve of her, and I told him so. He said I couldn’t be part of their lives, but then she left him and Sam. I was right, although I get no pleasure out of it. I genuinely wish I hadn’t been.”
“Of course you do,” Bea mused with a shake of her head. “Those things are so difficult to navigate.”
“He’s always been a bit of a hothead. I struggled with him when he was young, but I loved him. He doesn’t seem to recall any of that, apparently.”
“Maybe he does now. You should see if he’ll give you another chance.”
Betsy nodded. “You’re right—I will. I can’t bear to think that little Sam is being neglected. My son works hard and he’s a good father, but she needs her grandmother.”
“I think you’re right,” Penny said. She hated to see the pain in Betsy’s eyes, but she was grateful there might be a solution for Sam’s situation. And the fact that the solution might well include the care of a loving grandmother was all the more perfect because it was Betsy, one of Penny’s favourite people.
She couldn’t believe she’d never heard the story before. She vaguely recalled something about Betsy’s son from years ago, but she’d assumed he’d moved away and had never really thought about it. It amazed her how much pain and suffering the people around her could hide from everyone they knew.
Fifteen
The library smelled of old books and rose potpourri. Bea let her finger trace along the spine of a book, then she walked down the aisle, following the line of books with her fingertips as she read the titles to herself. There were so many books, and this was only one library out of thousands, all over the world. Books on every subject imaginable, as well as every fiction genre and style. It was hard to believe so many people had put pen to paper over the years and written whatever was in their head for others to read. She couldn’t imagine doing that.
Give her a cake to bake any day of the week, but she wouldn’t bleed herself dry on a page.
Evie, Taya and Penny were seated at a long rectangular table with a microfiche machine at one end. Taya sat in front of the machine, feeding microfiche across the lens and whispering what she found to the others. Bea sat with them and crossed one leg over the other. She leaned forward.
“What is it?”
Taya pushed her chair away from the machine. “Nothing about Penny’s grandmother’s murder yet. We haven’t found the exact date, since Penny isn’t sure of it. We only have the year to go by. And there’s a lot of news that year, if you can believe it.”
Bea huffed. “On Coral Island? How much could’ve happened in one year?”
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Evie said, nudging an old newspaper across the table towards Bea. “Look at this — there was a pumpkin growing competition, of all things. Then they had a dance, and someone switched off the electricity in the middle of everything, putting them all in the dark. It was a big scandal. Someone’s wife kissed someone else’s husband, which they all saw as soon as the power came back on.”
“Wow, what a disaster,” Bea said with a smirk. “The island was salacious back then, apparently. It’s nothing like that now. A very upstanding community.”
“As far as you know,” Penny said with one eyebrow quirked.
“Oh, do tell,” Taya said.
Penny drew a fingers across her lips like a zipper. “Never.”
The old librarian, Mrs Gossamer, glared at them from her desk at the front of the library. Bea clamped her lips shut and did her best not to giggle. The librarian had been there since she was in primary school, and whenever she saw that tightly pulled grey bun and the half-moon glasses perched on a thin nose, she felt like she was a child getting in trouble for making too much noise all over again.
“Careful. We’re going to be expelled from the library,” she hissed.
“Does anyone else feel eight years old?” Taya asked.
Bea nodded furiously.
The others stifled a fit of giggles.
“Let’s keep investigating,” Bea suggested, pulling a pile of newspapers towards her. They were old, and the pages were worn. Some of the printing was smudged or faded. She scanned through headlines, turning the pages as gently as she could manage.
“So, we’re looking for any mention of Mary Brown from 1977 or 1978. That’s the year Penny thinks she was killed because it happened right after she was born. Am I getting the details correct, Pen?” Bea asked, her finger paused on a story headline.
“That’s right,” Penny agreed. “Although I could be wrong about the timing and I don’t want to call mum about it, since it only upsets her. But let’s start there and see what we find.”
Before long, Bea’s back hurt and her eyes were tired. She found her reading glasses in her purse and slipped them on, then continued her search. Finally, she stumbled across an article from November 15th 1978 with the headline Grandmother murdered.
“Look at this!” she said.
Another glare from Mrs Gossamer and she lowered her voice.
“I found it.”
The other women gathered around in a semicircle, and she read the article in a hushed tone.
“Mrs Mary Brown was found stabbed to death…”
“Oh, horrible,” Evie declared.
“…on the back porch of her house on the beach near Blue Lake at seven p.m. yesterday evening. The murder weapon wasn’t found, and no one else was home at the time of the attack. She was discovered by her daughter, Ruby, when she returned from rehearsals for the school play on the evening ferry.”
“Your mum was an actress?” Taya asked Penny.
Penny shrugged. “Not really. I think she painted the scenery and was a background extra or something. But she does love to sing.”
“So, your mother came home from school late and found your grandmother dead on the back porch. How old were you then?”
“One year old. I think my grandmother was caring for me at the time,” Penny said, her brow furrowed. “Poor Mum. I know she was heartbroken over it. She found me crying in my cot.”
“Where was your grandfather?” Taya asked.
“He’d died years earlier.”
“It must’ve been a nightmare for your mother. And you told us your dad wasn’t in the picture. Is that right?”
“From what I know, he left before I was born, and Mum was on her own. But she was only sixteen, so perhaps he was very young as well. Of course, she won’t say a word about him, which is infuriating. I’ve given up asking, but I used to be obsessed with finding out anything I could about him. He is my father, after all.”
“That’s understandable,” Bea replied, trying to imagine how she’d feel if she didn’t know the identity of one of her parents. It would be a constant itching at the back of her mind, pushing her to learn the truth.
She continued reading. “Look at this. It says there was a possible witness, a Mrs Betsy Norton.”
All of the women exchanged a curious glance.
“What are the chances…?” Penny crossed her arms over her chest. “We spoke to her yesterday about her granddaughter, and now we’re running across her name in the newspaper as a possible witness to my grandmother’s murder.”
“That’s a very strange coincidence,” Taya admitted.
“It’s very bizarre, but probably doesn’t mean anything. Although I’m surprised she’s never mentioned it,” Evie added, her nose wrinkling. “Should we talk to her about it?”
“I don’t see why not,” Bea said.
“But wouldn’t she have told us before now if she wanted us to know?” Penny asked.
“You’d think so, but then it did happen a long time ago.”
“I’ve spoken with her a hundred times in my life, and she’s never mentioned she knew anything about my grandmother’s death,” whispered Penny.
