Page 56 of Return to the Waratah Inn

“Or no tea tonight,” Reeda said, immediately regretting her words. Couldn’t she have come up with something else? How would she enforce that particular punishment?

Simone exchanged a glance with her siblings, then hissed, “Fine, whatever.”

Reeda breathed out with relief, careful not to let them see any change in her expression. She and Kate helped the three of them clean up the couch the best they could. It would definitely need to be dry cleaned, and even then, Reeda wasn’t sure it would ever fully recover. Then they headed outside to do the best they could with the pool. They found Jack already there, working on picking up the food that lay scattered across the tiles.

Before long, it was in much better shape, although they’d have to filter all of the water to get the particles of food out of it. The whole incident had turned into a very exhausting and expensive clean-up, and Reeda was furious. She’d never seen anything like that before in her life. They’d worked so hard to renovate the inn, to make it into a beautiful resort-style bed-and-breakfast that guests would love. Watching the children pay no regard to caring for it had been difficult to bear.

She put them in the car. Carly already looked sleepy, and Marc was yawning. Then she said goodbye to Kate, who’d helped her carry her things out and placed them in the boot.

“Give them a chance,” Kate said with a wan smile. “It’s only stuff.”

“I know, but the disrespect…”

“You like everything to be perfect. I get it. You’re the queen of elegance—the perfect hair, makeup and outfit, with the perfect décor surrounding you. I love that about you. You’re an inspiration to us all,” Kate hugged her. “But life isn’t perfect, and kids definitely aren’t. These ones have been through a lot. They might’ve made a mess of the couch and pool today, but think about what their parents have done to them. The way that every adult in their life has failed them up until now. How much of a mess has been made of them.”

Reeda choked back a sob as compassion washed over her. “You’re right.” She inhaled a quick breath as tears filled her eyes. “You’re so right.”

“It’ll take time. Don’t give up on them. This is what you wanted, right?” Kate patted Reeda’s back.

Reeda rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me. But yes, this is what I wanted. I guess I didn’t realise what I was signing up for.”

“No parent ever does.” Kate dipped her head towards the sleeping baby.

As Reeda drove away, she bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying. One glance in the rear vision mirror showed that Carly was fast asleep with her head on Simone’s shoulder. Simone stared out the window with dark, defiant eyes. Marc leaned his head against the other door, his eyes glazing over. It’d been a hard day, her first real brush with outright rebelliousness. Did that mean they hated her, or that they’d relaxed around her? She wasn’t sure. But one thing she knew—as bad as it’d been, she’d won that round. They’d cleaned up the mess and were sitting quietly in the back of her car headed home. She wasn’t sure if she’d cope with whatever they threw at her, literally or figuratively, the next time, but she’d made it through today.

Chapter Thirty

December 1953

Marrickville

Mima sat on the edge of her bed, something she’d done countless times since she first arrived at the hospital. But this time would be her last. She stood to her feet, tightened the belt around her waist, and fixed her hat onto her hair with pins. Then, with one last glance around the room, she released the breath she’d held in her lungs. There were two beds, both empty, each neatly made with fresh white sheets and folded quilts. The room had held so much laughter and so many tears, days and nights of friendship, whispered dreams, frantic letter writing, and promises made.

But Fran was gone. She’d left during Mima’s labour, and Mima had no idea where she went. The staff wouldn’t tell her. She’d even gone to Mrs Thompson’s office and begged to find out some little detail of her friend’s life and what had become of her, but Mrs Thompson had laid a hand on her shoulder, given her a look of patronising compassion, and shaken her head.

“It’s best you don’t know, dear. Time for new beginnings, eh? Let Fran get back to her life, and you go back to yours. You’re both ready for a fresh start, I think. And now you have it.”

“But she’s my friend. I have to know she’s okay.”

“She’s fine—with her family and friends now. Fran is exactly where she wants to be. And you need to go out into the world and find your place in it. Don’t let me catch you back here. Once bitten, twice shy… you remember that. Learn from your mistakes. And do better from now on. Those swindlers and charlatans will have you in the palm of their hand if you let ’em. But you need to be stronger than that. Focus on character and integrity, and you’ll have happy days ahead.”

As Mima scanned the room where she’d felt so much fear at first and then had grown to love the people she met there in a fierce, protective way, now she felt nothing. Numbness was her constant state of being. No emotion rose to the surface. Her mind was blank. Her heart was empty. She inhaled a long, slow breath, taking in the scent of the place—lavender and mint. Mima had found both in the garden behind the hospital and dried them to crush into a small bag she’d hung in the wardrobe to keep their clothes from being ravaged by moths. Fran had laughed over it, wondering why she was so concerned about moths when they were all part of the same world together.

Mima stared at Fran’s empty bed. Losing her friend had been hard, but after losing the baby, nothing else mattered much to her any longer. She couldn’t feel the loss the way she would’ve earlier.

As she walked out of the hospital grounds, she witnessed a police car pull into the driveway with a teary young woman in the back seat. She stopped to watch them swing the car up in front of the hospital’s staff entrance which led to Mrs Thompson’s office and the nurses’ quarters. The burly officers climbed out of the vehicle. One opened the back door, and the other walked up the steps and knocked to garner Mrs Thompson’s attention.

Mima turned on her heel and trudged away from there without another backwards glance. She’d finished with that place, and she would never return again. Mrs Thompson was right about that—it was time for her to have a fresh start. She’d tried to call her parents the previous day, but no one had answered. She knew the truth already—she wasn’t welcome there. And even if they had agreed to take her in, she didn’t want to be there. Her heart was too raw, her life too broken. She couldn’t face the judgement and criticism her parents would give her. Not now. Not any longer. She’d have done it for the baby, but he was gone, and she must go on.

She needed Edie.

She walked all the way to the train station. It was a long walk, and by the time she got there, she’d rubbed blisters on the backs of her heels. She’d written to Edie a few times in recent months. She’d told her she’d moved to Sydney and was working with a group of nurses at the Prince Henry Hospital. She’d filled the letters with nonsense about boyfriends and which celebrities they most resembled. Anything to avoid telling the truth of her situation and what she’d endured on a daily basis. She didn’t want to face it and abhorred the idea of Edie knowing about it—Edie’s tender heart would have forced her to come down to Sydney and do everything in her power to rescue her friend. But there was no rescue for Mima. It would only endanger Edie, whose family needed her even more than Mima did. So, she continued with the façade that her life was one big, long party. The adventures of a single woman, living it up in Sydney and enjoying the freedom of a post-war world.

Mima had a plan. She’d travel to Cabarita Beach in the hopes that Edie and Paul might let her stay a while, at least until she’d healed. But she’d weave a story of hopelessness that hid the truth of what she’d been through. Even with her dearest friends in all the world, she wasn’t ready to share that part of herself yet. The cut was still too deep, the wound too raw.

She used the money her parents had given her to buy a train ticket to Murwillumbah. As she sat on the train, her suitcase propped on the seat beside her, she leaned against the large glass window, feeling the vibrations of the rails beneath the chugging steam train. The whistle blew, startling her. She sat up straight and then rested her head back on the seat behind her. She pulled her suitcase into her lap, wrapped her arms around it, and drifted off to sleep. Her dreams were full of dark men in long, white coats chasing her through shadowy buildings. She tried to scream but couldn’t find a voice, tried to run but found her feet too heavy, and inevitably, they grabbed her and held her down until she could no longer resist their long, sharp fingers prying at the place where her heart used to beat.

Chapter Thirty-One