A light tapping at her window shattered the illusion.
‘Ms Sullivan? Are you okay?’
Maybe the universe was trying to tell her something. That even though she’d proven she could stay put, her mother’s blooddidrun in her veins. Maybe she should just give in and go where the wind blew her, acknowledge that she’d never belong anywhere.
Grinding her teeth, she fought the tears that pricked, hot and angry, under her eyelids. It was Rosie who’d chosen that life for them—Beth had begrudgingly been swept along for the ride—but now Beth was free to make her own choices and she was gonna stay here in Townsville, damn it! Okay, so she’d have to find a new rental, but surely there were other places out there as good as this one?
Doubtful. But possible.
The knock came again, making Beth jump.
She glanced at her agent then surrendered to her fate and pulled into her driveway.
Taking the keys from the ignition, she stepped from her car and caught the way the late afternoon sun bathed the cottage in golden light, dappled as it penetrated the foliage of the fig trees in her yard. The sight had welcomed her home countless times and she never failed to marvel at the beauty of it. Today, though, it made her heart ache.
‘I’m so sorry.’ The real estate agent offered an appropriately apologetic wince as she approached. ‘I was hoping to catch you before he arrived to put up the sign.’
Beth stared at the offensive sheet of corrugated plastic. ‘How long do I have?’ Before she needed to move.Again. Another house, another notch in her belt.
‘The owners aren’t in any hurry,’ the agent told her, ‘which is why they’ve chosen to go with an expression of interest campaign. The closing date is twelve weeks away. They wanted to give you as long as possible to make other living arrangements.’
Beth nodded. Four weeks or twelve, it made no difference to her. It was difficult to feel gratitude when she was being turfed out of the only real home she’d ever known.
If she had any money, she’d buy the place herself, but every spare cent she’d earned in the last four years had gone towards paying off Rosie’s funeral expenses.
With one last apology, the agent and the evil man wielding the mallet departed, leaving Beth alone with her depressing thoughts. She had to move again. Even as a kid, all she’d ever wanted was to stay put and feel as if she belonged, but that had been the exact opposite of what her mother had wanted.
‘But Mu-uum, why do we have to move again? I want to stay here. I’ve finally made some friends.’
‘You know why, Bethie. I can’t stay in one place for too long. I get itchy feet. Besides, you can make new friends at the next school. You’ll be the lucky kid with friends all over the country. And for the thousandth time, call me Rosie.’
The constant moving had stopped once her mother received her cancer diagnosis. Rosie had always been happier when they were living somewhere warm, so she’d insisted on staying in Queensland, and Townsville had been the last place they’d moved before she’d gotten too sick to relocate.
Losing Rosie had been a struggle. It had been only the two of them for almost as long as Beth could remember, so to suddenly be alone in the world was terrifying, difficult, heartbreaking—all the things. But once she’d made the decision to stay in Townsville and study office management, she’d committed to making the cottage her own, filling it with pot plants and books and artwork—things she’d never bothered collecting before.
Dragging her feet to the letterbox, she lifted the lid and pulled out the contents—an electricity bill and a few catalogues. How many more times would she have the privilege of collecting mail from this box? Such a simple, mundane task that people took for granted.
As she stood there, a delivery van pulled up to the kerb and the driver hopped out.
‘Delivery for Bethany Sullivan?’
She cleared her throat, though her thoughts were still a maelstrom of bitterness and negativity. ‘That’s me.’
He held out his device and, after she’d signed, handed over a thick, white envelope. ‘Have a good one,’ he said, before getting back in his van and driving away.
‘Unlikely,’ she muttered, then with her hopes of a relaxing evening shattered, she made her way inside to start scouring the real estate websites for rentals.
CHAPTER
TWO
Beth pushed her laptop away and slumped over the kitchen table. What a complete waste of time. She’d spent the last four days trawling the internet, but not a single listed rental compared to this place. Her best options were a share house—absolutely not—or a tiny shack that looked as if it had mould growing in almost every room.
She sighed. It wasn’t like she had to be out in a week, and with any luck, this place would take months to sell.
A digital bleating pierced the silence, making her jump.
Scrambling to her bag at the other end of the table, she riffled through its depths and pulled out her phone. It hardly ever rang, so she rarely thought to put it on silent.
