Strangers at the Cove Read online

  © Lyn M Fergusson

  P O Box 204

  Killara NSW 2071

  AUSTRALIA

  Email: [email protected]

  ISBN: 9780994221414 (eBook)

  Contents

  Cold, Grey Eyes

  Stacey

  A Mystery Solved

  Lexie’s Discovery

  The Extended Sleepover

  Down to the Cove

  Smugglers Revealed

  The Reunion

  one

  Cold, Grey Eyes

  Geez, Lexie fumed as she settled in her seat, glaring at the seat in front of her. Why was it that grown-ups thought they could just walk over kids? It was her space in the overhead locker and now her bag was miles down the aisle, just because this woman wanted all her stuff together. And just how much did she have? The fourteen year old shook her head in disbelief.

  “Oh, good grief, this is not a good way to start the hols,” she moaned to herself. Her iPod was in her bag. Great. She started to stand.

  “I’m sorry.” The flight attendant leaned in towards her. “The seatbelt sign is on, please remain in your seat.”

  “But I just want to get something out of my bag.”

  “I’m sorry, it will have to wait until after takeoff.”

  “… ’Twas ever thus.” The icy, craggy words jolted through the air.

  ’Twas ever thus? What? Lexie looked around. Who on earth speaks like that these days?

  Lexie glanced across the aisle. “The voice” was sitting a row ahead and appeared to be talking to itself. Okay, this was too much! She would have to check this out. The seatbelt sign vanished and without wanting to appear too obvious, she walked straight past the object of interest, to her bag. Rifling through it, Lexie took the opportunity to look back up the aisle. The voice, an elderly lady, was looking straight at her. Creepy, she shuddered. She quickly turned away but could still feel the cold, grey eyes boring into her back.

  With iPod in hand, Lexie returned to her seat, passing a small, upset boy in the aisle on the way. She smiled at him but he looked away. Was there uncertainty in his eyes? Maybe he was just shy. Noticing the seat next to the now apparently sleeping old lady was empty, the thought it might be the little boy’s flashed through her mind.

  From her one quick glance Lexie deduced that the old lady was at least the age of a grandmother, thin, with a pinched, unhappy face. Aha! Now the phrase that had captured her attention no longer seemed out of context. There was a chilly aura about her. You know how some people say they see colours when they look at people? Well this lady would have a frosty glow! She wore a grey, high-neckline dress buttoned to the waist and gloves – gloves in this weather? Lexie shivered involuntarily. It felt strange being looked at like that. She always got on so well with people, could usually get them on her side. She smiled to herself. Even her mother when she was angry.

  Oh well, she’d soon be home. She stuck the iPod earplugs in and turned to the window, her fingers tapping lightly to the music. It would be wonderful to be back at Holman’s Cove, back with her parents and, of course, Bud. No-one was allowed to ride him when she was away.

  Gazing into the distance, her mind moved to her mother, Vicki. She was lucky, listening to some of her friends at school talk about their mothers Lexie realised how special her relationship with her mother was. She looked so much better than most of her friends’ mothers. Maybe she looked young because she spent so much time outdoors. She rode each day and would either swim or run on the beach regularly. Her hair, streaked by the hairdresser and lightened by the sun, was short and straight. It would be good if she didn’t have to go to the hospital too often during the holidays; surely they could find another physiotherapist for a couple of weeks.

  Lexie looked forward to the warm welcome she knew was awaiting her. Mum liked having her home from boarding school, she enjoyed the company and, of course, sharing the housework. Lexie wrinkled her nose at that. Being home also halved the time required to care for the horses while her father was away at his office in the city. Lexie giggled quietly to herself. If she was smart enough, caring for the horses could make her unavailable for too much of the dreaded housework. The dogs, two Australian kelpies, sheepdogs Scuz and Banjo would be waiting for her, too. They were like Tweedledee and Tweedledum, Scuz jet black and the milk chocolate-brown Banjo. They’d had Scuz for a while but Banjo was still at the puppy stage and learning about controlling the sheep. Dad seemed happy with his progress. This pleased her because Banjo had formed an attachment to her – and he was so cute!

  Her brow creased slightly as she reflected on how difficult it had been for them to adjust to their new arrangement. Now when Dad was home he spent his time either working in his study or out on the property. Peter Holman was really handsome – except for that scar just under his left eye. She used to ask him about the scar but stopped when she got sick of his silly answers. He wore his dark, wavy hair longer than all of her friends’ fathers. All the girls at school thought he was gorgeous and a man of mystery. As if!

  The plane approached the airstrip, flying over the main road which was long and straight, telegraph poles disappearing into the distance. This scene always brought Mrs. Oliver, her art teacher, to mind who would, no doubt, enjoy pointing out the perspective of the poles. She sat up to peer through the window.

  On the National Park side of the road, the trees, sometimes in dense clumps, looked like thick dark green paint blobs on a canvas of sandy/reddish grey, with huge rocky outcrops dotted among them. It was really cool seeing it from the air and she never got tired of the view. Water was visible in the distance, leading to a change in vegetation from eucalyptus trees to coastal shrubby bushes with the odd palm tree standing out closer to the sea. The coast along here was quite rugged, with masses of caves, perfect if you were a smuggler!

  The other side of the road was farmland, large paddocks, some with dilapidated fences, stretched into the distance. The grass had a golden haze as it was ruffled by the light breeze, in fact in all the years flying back and forth to school she could not remember ever having seen that side of the road really green. Dark dots speckled the land here and there, cattle munching their way through the day. The captain announcing their landing jolted her back to reality and the seatbelt sign went on again.

  Lexie drew in a deep, contented breath, the air was hot and filled with the smell of flowering eucalypts and the sound of rainbow lorikeets chattering among themselves as she walked across the tarmac towards the small terminal. She smiled to herself as she noticed they had still not fixed the broken gate.

  The wait at the baggage carousel was boring and endless. As she gazed aimlessly around, her reflection in one of the windows caught her porcelain blue eye. She looked different somehow this time. Suddenly she was taller and thinner and even looked prettier, although she’d never admit it – still had those wretched freckles, though. Ah well, she mused, at least they’re not as bad as some I’ve seen. Her mother always said they were distinctive and went with her tawny hair that was fairly straight and hung loose around her shoulders. Thank heavens straight hair was all the rage at the moment. She gave it a shake and in one deft move pulled it up into a high ponytail, tying it with the ever-present hair elastic on her right wrist. The cool of the airconditioning felt good on the back of her neck.

  Lexie was surprised to see Tom striding towards her. “Your mother was delayed at the hospital,” he explained as he took her bag.

  Not quite nineteen, Tom was still a little taller than her, with dreamy, dark brown eyes and sun-bleached brown hair contrasting with the olive complexion that gave him a wonderful tan. Lexie had studied him from afar on numerous occasions, she did again now as he turned to le
ad the way. Heavens, was she blushing? Her hands involuntarily went to her cheeks.

  How great it had been when Tom, a local boy, had started helping out on their property in his early teens. To start with he’d been there during school holidays and then, when Dad had to spend more time in the city, he started working for them full time.

  She gave him a beaming smile. “Thanks for coming out to get me.”

  They didn’t talk much on the drive home. Holman’s Cove was about seventy-five kilometres from the airport and Lexie used the time to soak in the surrounds. How different the main road looked, on the ground!

  As they rounded the last bend, coming to the crest of a small hill, Holman’s Cove was laid out to the left of them. It always took her breath away. After the rugged landscape the lush green of the pastures and the tranquil sight of the grass-nibbling sheep, with the sea sparkling like a jewel in the distance, appeared to be another world. Lexie felt a thrill run through her as she watched a large bird hovering over the water. The osprey had been around for a while now and nested on the headland; last year she had seen a juvenile with its parent.

  She loved the vast variety of birdlife here. The wonderful colours and sounds – the magpies’ flutelike warbling, the pretty trill of the small black and white willy wagtail and the superb blue wren – all names she was now familiar with thanks to the book on Australian birds her parents had given her – and most plentiful of all, the brush wattlebird with its incessant chuckling, bill clicking, and metallic shrieks, all this spelled home to her.

  “Oh, Tom, it’s just so great to be back! Everything looks wonderful.” As they turned in at the gate and rattled over the cattle grid Lexie noticed how much the poplars flanking the driveway had grown. Not quite three metres high, they still had a long way to go to maturity. Their soft young bronze branches swayed gently in the breeze and she was pleased her parents had decided upon them rather than any other tree.

  “Don’t get so carried away,” Tom said, laughing at her rapturous expression. “I don’t see any difference in the trees!”

  “You wouldn’t, you’re here all the time!” She gave him a mock pout.

  They rounded a bend in the driveway and the recently painted white house gleamed in the sunshine before them, its three sandstone chimneys prominent in their majesty. The house had been quite small until Lexie’s parents extended it. Built off the ground, it was bordered by wide verandahs on three sides. During the summer months, most of their time was spent on the back verandah with an expansive view of the sea through the fine wire mesh sliding windows used to keep mosquitoes out. The front verandah was only used when they entertained – which was hardly ever. Lexie suppressed a sigh as they drove around the back greeted by the sound of approaching barking.

  Tom stopped the car as her mother appeared at the door. “I’ve only just arrived home – hello, darling,” she said, giving Lexie a big hug.

  A brown streak shot around the corner of the house, straight at Lexie. “Yay! Banjo.” Arms outstretched, she dropped to her knee and the dog flew into her arms, a puppy when she last saw him. “Oh, hasn’t he grown?”

  Her mother laughed. “How lovely it is to have you back.” She smiled across at Tom. “I’m grateful you could pick Lexie up, Tom. Will you join us for dinner?”

  “Yes, please, Mrs. Holman, if that’s okay.” His infectious smile lit up his suntanned face.

  “Thanks again for the lift, Tom,” Lexie called, waving as he drove off.

  “How was the flight?”

  “As boring as ever.” She grabbed her bag, patted Banjo’s head, “see you later” and headed towards the hall.

  The old lady had completely slipped her mind.

  TWO

  Stacey

  Lexie did not give the episode on the plane another thought until a few days later, while shopping with her mother in town. All of a sudden she had a creeping feeling, a sensation of being watched. Glancing across the road, her eyes met the same cold, steel-grey eyes from the plane and she wondered why they made her feel so uneasy.

  “Mum,” Lexie asked, “who is that lady? I haven’t seen her around here before.”

  But by the time her mother looked, the old lady had vanished. “Vaporised due to the chill she exudes.” Lexie giggled.

  That afternoon Lexie saddled Bud up and went for a ride. He was a beautiful horse, chestnut with a silver mane and long swishing tail, a present from her parents the previous Christmas – the horse of her own Lexie had longed for since she was small. It seemed so natural to be back in the saddle again, and she knew Bud missed her when she was away. It would have been fun to have Banjo there too, but Dad and Tom were moving some sheep to another paddock so the dogs were working. As they trotted down the gently sloping track to the beach she surveyed her most favourite place in all the world.

  Holman’s Cove was a protected beach with rocky headlands like sentinels standing at each end. Low sculptured trees formed by the wind, and palms, followed the contour of the land among the rocks. The sand was fine and white and from above, the curve of the water as the waves broke on shore, could keep all of them transfixed for hours. When Lexie was younger, before life changed, with her going to boarding school and her father working in the city, they’d spend idyllic hours picnicking on the gentle, grassy slopes above the Cove, playing games, guessing which wave would come the furthest up the beach.

  A figure suddenly darted behind a rock. Who …? She gave Bud a gentle nudge and he broke into a gallop.

  “Hey!” she called. “Hey, you behind the rock. What are you doing on my beach!”

  As Bud came to a halt beside the rock she jumped down in time to grab a small arm as its owner dashed past her.

  “Where do you think you’re going? You’re trespassing on my private beach!” she said indignantly. The boy stopped writhing, his arm going limp in her hand and then a strangled sob burst from him.

  “Well, it’s the little boy from the plane.” She stared at him incredulously. “What are you doing here? Where do you live? You can’t live around here. I’ve never seen you before.”

  His wet eyes met hers nervously was that uncertainty still there? He was clearly trying to smile, but seemed awfully shy. “Hello,” he said in a small voice.

  “Hi,” Lexie said, immediately sorry she had held his arm so tightly and yelled so loudly at him. He was actually quite cute with his little button nose, which was running, and really blonde hair with a funny little tuft exploding from the top.

  “Here, let me wipe your nose. It doesn’t look so good.” She produced an old scrunched-up tissue from her pocket. “What’s your name?”

  “Eustace, but my sister calls me Stacey.”

  “Eustace. Well, that’s different!” Lexie’s eyes twinkled as she smiled.

  “Go on, laugh! Everyone else does.” His lips trembled. “I don’t know why I tell people my name. Next time … when I’m older I’m going to change my name. When I’m big and don’t have to do what everyone tells me to do!” He started to cry again.

  Lexie, regretting her amusement, instinctively put her arms around him and was surprised to feel him cuddle into her. He seemed to relax and then, as if he wasn’t already crying enough, he started to really sob. She didn’t know what to do.

  “Hey, come on. Stop crying, I’m getting wet,” she said and giggled.

  Stacey looked up at her with brimming eyes. “I’m sorry.” He sniffed. “I need another tissue.”

  Lexie hoped he would stop crying as she gently handed him her last one. “Do you want to come for a ride on Bud? You could tell me about your sister.”

  Stacey clearly felt very big and brave sitting behind Lexie, watching the waves catch them, the splashes caused by Bud’s hooves reaching his feet. She drew in her breath slowly. “Smell that? It’s low tide so we get the wonderful smell of seaweed.”

  As Bud carried them slowly along the beach, Stacey occasionally turned nervously to look behind him and Lexie quizzed her new friend. How old was hi
s sister? Where were they living? Had he been with the old lady on the plane? She had so many questions but he was not ready to answer them. He was six years old, he told her, and that was the only thing she learnt. He seemed hesitant, almost as if he were trying to decide if he could trust her.

  She gave him a quick hug as she lifted him off the horse. “Why don’t you bring your sister over tomorrow, we could have a picnic.”

  “I’ll see,” he said, “if we can get out … we’re not supposed to … I don’t know …” He trailed off and looked away.

  “Okay, I’ll be here tomorrow anyway, around lunchtime. Off you go. Say hello to your sister for me.” She watched him carefully pick his way over the slippery rocks, stopping occasionally to peer at the rock pools, and then he was gone. What an afternoon!

  She and Bud took their time returning to the stables. They both loved the long summer afternoons. Behind the trees, the sun was low, playing hide and seek, and the air was still muggy and warm. It was going to be another hot night. With a gentle tug on the reins she guided Bud off the track, then with the slightest twitch of her knees they took off up across the open grass at a gallop. It was a good ride and both exulted in the carefree dash.

  As they trotted through the trees Lexie could hear the duet of the wattlebirds. It was strange … here she was so far from the city and school and yet this was a sound that combined both her worlds.

  Her father and Tom had built the stables a few years earlier, using timber from a far corner of the property where the bush was dense. It was a laborious job as they took time to select trees of a uniform size to form the railing fence and the stalls themselves. The logs were then brought across to the work shed and cut to the required length. The stable area comprised a large square bordered by a railing fence. Four covered stalls ran down two of the adjacent sides with an enclosed triangular shed housing saddles, tackle and other paraphernalia, acting as a centrepoint at their junction. A concrete pad between the shed and left-hand stalls had a sturdy green hose for hosing down the horses. Each stall was railed off separately and opened onto a sand exercise yard.