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Cleo set out for Ruby Sullivan’s, her heart in her mouth as the memory of Hannah’s words rang in her ears. It was over a week since Hannah’s angry call, and Cleo hadn’t heard from her since. She’d been tempted to pick up the phone so many times but had heeded Will’s advice and stopped herself. She wouldn’t wait for ever, but maybe, as Will suggested, her daughter needed some space. And she had Nate now, too.
But today Cleo felt guilty. She was doing exactly what Hannah had asked – demanded – her not to do. She was going to see Kerri-Ann. But what other option did she have? The poor girl had come all this way – to the other side of the world – to find the only family she had left. If Hannah continued to refuse to meet her, at least Cleo could give the girl information about her father.
She’d made the decision yesterday, after sifting through a collection of old photographs of Stan.
Now, with a bundle of photographs in her bag, and without any other means of contacting Kerri-Ann, Cleo made her way along the boardwalk to the B&B where the girl was staying in the hope she’d find her there.
The sun was still high in the sky, shining down on a glistening ocean which was filled with surfers, when she rang the bell.
Ruby Sullivan’s eyes peered at her through the open door. ‘Cleo Johansen,’ she said. ‘I wondered when you’d show up. You’ve come to see my guest?’
Cleo nodded. ‘Kerri-Ann. Is she in?’ She had trouble forming the words. She should have known she’d have to face Ruby; the woman who could see what she was thinking before she’d even thought it.
‘She’s here,’ Ruby said, opening the door wide, ‘please come in.’
It was the first time Cleo had been inside Ruby’s house, and she looked around with interest. It was larger than it looked from the outside. A wide hallway had doors on either side, the one on the right-hand side open, revealing a comfortable living room with furniture that appeared to have survived several generations.
Ruby gestured for Cleo to go follow her into the kitchen, saying, ‘I’ll fetch Kerri-Ann. You’d no doubt like tea or coffee.’
‘Thanks, Ruby,’ Cleo said and took a seat.
The kitchen was clearly the heart of the house, and, like the room she’d glanced into, didn’t appear to have changed in the past fifty years. It had the cosy feel about it, which Cleo would have expected from Ruby’s home, with its scrubbed wood table and the ladder-backed chairs. In the centre of the table sat a large, shallow, pottery bowl filled with fruit. An oversized fridge hummed in one corner and a double-sized gas cooktop and oven stood against one wall, at right angles to a deep porcelain sink.
Cleo was imagining Ruby busily baking her wonderful cakes here, the delicious aroma of that morning’s baking still filling the room, when Ruby reappeared, Kerri-Ann behind her.
‘Hello.’ Kerri-Ann slid into the seat opposite. ‘This is a surprise.’ She was pale, unlike most locals and tourists whose tanned skin was a sign of time spent in the sun.
‘Coffee?’ Ruby asked, buzzing around the pair.
‘Please,’ Cleo said, while Kerri-Ann nodded.
Before long, Ruby, placed the two coffees on the table along with a plate of her special brownies. ‘I’ll leave you to it. I’m sure you have a lot to talk about. Remember what I told you,’ she said to Cleo, ‘Things are working out exactly as they were meant to. You just need to have patience.’
‘What did she mean?’ Kerri-Ann asked, when Ruby had disappeared again, moving so quietly she could have been a ghost.
‘It’s only Ruby’s way,’ Cleo said with a sigh. ‘She says these things… things which don’t seem to make sense, but…’ She forced herself to ignore Ruby’s words. ‘Never mind her at the moment. You asked about Stan.’
‘Yes.’ Kerri-Ann leant forward, her blonde hair swinging across one cheek and, elbow on the table, leant her chin on one fist.
She was so like Hannah.Cleo felt a pang of regret.What if Hannah could see her now? What would she think? Would she ever trust her again?
‘I have some photos.’ Cleo opened her bag to remove the packet of photos she’d decided to share. Some were from their early years together, others from later. The final one was taken only two weeks before Stan’s untimely death. It showed him and Hannah laughing together. Cleo had chosen that one as it demonstrated the essence of the man she’d fallen in love with.
Cleo began to slide them across the table one by one, explaining when each was taken. She became so wrapped up in her own memories, caught up in the past, it wasn’t until she’d passed over the final one that Cleo noticed the tears on Kerri-Ann’s cheeks. She took a sip of her coffee.
Kerri-Ann looked up to meet Cleo’s eyes, hers still filled with tears. ‘I wish I could have known him. I look like him… and your daughter… Hannah… When I saw her after the meeting… it was like seeing myself in the mirror. It was weird.’
Hannah must have thought so, too. No wonder she’d been so angry. It must have been as if she’d lost her unique identity, her special link with the dad she idolised. Cleo suddenly had an insight into how Hannah must be feeling. She had an urge to speak to her daughter. But she couldn’t leave now. She had barely arrived, and Kerri-Ann was still poring over the photographs as if they could somehow bring Stan back to life.
It was over an hour later before Cleo could leave. During that time, she’d answered innumerable questions about Stan, and had to plead ignorance of others, realising how little she knew about his life before they met. He hadn’t deliberately hidden anything – at least, she didn’t think he had – there just had been no reason for him to go into detail.
‘These are amazing,’ Kerri-Ann said, ‘would you mind if I had some copies made?’
‘Of course,’ Cleo said, reaching across the table and squeezing the girl’s hand.
‘Thank you so much, Cleo. I shall treasure them.’
Kerri-Ann’s look of joy was enough to know that she’d done the right thing coming here today.
