Love Notes from Vinegar House (16 page)

“I’m just going out for a walk,” I said, standing in the doorway.

“Suit yourself,” said Rumer, barely taking her eyes from the screen. She waved her mobile phone about wildly for a second and said flatly, “No signal! Typical.”

There was a weird moment when I wanted to confess about the notes, and I might have, except Rumer said sharply, “I can’t wait to get out of here. This place is a hole. The only good thing about this holiday has been getting my homework done.”

It seemed Rumer wasn’t going to own up to what she and Luke had been up to.

“It’s not that bad,” I said.

“I guess it depends on what you’re used to,” Rumer said with a yawn. “I don’t suppose it’s much different from Homsea.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“You know. Small town. Nothing much to do. You’d be used to it.” She flicked to another channel with the remote control.

I was sick of Rumer and her put-down ways.

“Although I heard you’d stirred things up a bit before the holidays,” Rumer said with a lazy smile. “Kissing someone else’s boyfriend? Didn’t think you had it in you, cuz.”

I was sick of her taking things that weren’t hers to take.

“Dad said that he might get back early from the conference, depends if he can get a flight,” said Rumer.

“I told him he owed me big time. I wish the twins were here. They’re always fun.”

She flicked to another channel.

“At least the old bat’s gone. She was seriously driving me crazy.”

Flick.

“And that gardener gives me the creeps. What’s his problem? I asked him to do something for me the other day and he said Grandma paid him, not me. And then he said she barely paid him enough as it was, without him having to do extra work. I think I might tell Grandma when they get back. Serves him right if she fires him on the spot.”

I was sick of the world where there were two sets of rules – one rule for Rumer and another for everyone else.

“Are you coming in or what?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“Well, shut the door, will you? I’m trying to keep warm here,” she said.

“You shut it,” I said.

And I left her with her mouth wide open …

But of course, that’s not what really happened.

“Are you coming in or what?” she asked.

I shook my head.

“Well, shut the door, will you? I’m trying to keep warm here,” she said.

So I shut the door quietly behind me.

There was nothing in the stables that looked like it might open an attic door or a locked chest. If Mr Chilvers had a toolbox, it wasn’t there. I thought about asking Luke, but I couldn’t face him.

When I checked my mobile, the no signal sign flashed at me. I suddenly wanted to be home. I wanted to be walking down the main street of Homsea where everyone knew me and at least half of them would stop and say hello if I looked like I needed company.

I wanted to sit in Miss Maudy’s Quilt Barn and hear her talk about the amazing travels she’d had when she was younger.

I wanted to wave to Rudy Heinrich pointing his radar gun out of his parked police car, or drop a flower off at the war memorial, or check out the latest specials on Porky Sudholz’s blackboard.

But most of all I wanted to be sitting at the end of the jetty, feet dangling over the side, waiting for some sucker squid to take the bait as I shot the breeze with the Luke Hart that I used to know.

But that was never going to happen again.

So I guess I
was
small town. And though Rumer meant it as a put-down, I kind of liked the idea.

As I walked back to the house I noticed the clouds were slowly blocking out the blue of the sky. The breeze from the bluff had lifted and it whistled around my ears. There was no way I could go back to the TV room. I thought I might study in the library for a while.

I tried not to think about the love notes hidden away in my dresser drawer. By the time I set myself up in the library it was already eleven o’clock. I decided to make myself a hot drink before I settled into it. When I returned to the desk, a fire was crackling into life in the fireplace. Luke had obviously been and gone.

I was happy I missed him.

I hoped he would come back.

After half an hour of history, I snapped my textbook shut in disgust. I couldn’t concentrate. Outside, the wind had picked up, snapping the trees back and forth like floggers at a football match. I looked around at the family portraits on the walls. I put another log of wood on the fire, then pulled out the family photo albums and flicked through them. By the third album it dawned on me what I was doing. I was looking for photos of Rumer’s mother. A happy family snap of Rumer and her mum and dad. A tender mother and child moment caught for the camera. But there was nothing. The only photos of Rumer as an infant were either by herself, or with her dad, cousins or Grandma Vinegar. I hurried through the rest of the albums, then started again, but there was nothing. All the albums I’d looked at only started with the birth of the first grandchild, Julia. There must have been older albums around.

I scoured the library shelves again. On the second look through, I spotted something slightly hidden between two medical dictionaries. If I’d been doing my dusting properly, I would have found it days before. It was a cracked leather-bound album, and as I pulled it out a photo of Rumer slid to the floor. She was wearing a striped top that I had never seen on her before, and the colour of the photo was faded. Then I realised that I wasn’t looking at Rumer at all. This was an old photo. It had to be Rumer’s mother. I wondered why she’d been hidden away.

“What have you got there?” Rumer was standing at the door.

I shoved the photo back into the album.

“Just the old photos,” I said.

The phone in the hallway jangled loudly. Rumer shrugged and answered it, while I slipped out the photo and stuck it in my pocket.

I heard her speak a few words. By the time I reached the hallway, she’d hung up.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“Wrong number,” she said, not looking at me. “Did they leave us lunch or what?”

And she went to the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

The phone rang again, and I picked it up quickly.

“Hello? Hello? This line isn’t working, Livinia. There’s no one there.” It was Grandma.

“Hello, Grandma,” I said loudly into the phone.

“Ah, Freya? Is that you, Freya?”

“Yes, Grandma.”

“Good. Now listen to me, we have reached Port Eden. Is everything all right there?”

“Yes, Grandma.”

“Good. Now Mr Chilvers has some business in town, but he will be home late this afternoon.”

She had already told us that.

“Okay,” I said.

“Is everything all right there?” she asked.

“Everything’s fine, Grandma.”

“All right.”

I could hear heavy breathing from her end of the phone.

“You will ring my contact number if you need anything, Freya?” she said, eventually.

“We’re fine, Grandma,” I said.

“Yes, yes, Livinia,” she said away from the phone. “I have to go now, Freya, this is costing me a fortune.”

Then Grandma Vinegar hung up before I had a chance to say goodbye.

Rumer emerged from the kitchen with a large sandwich.

“I didn’t make you anything,” she said with her mouth half-filled with food. “I didn’t know what you wanted.”

As she sauntered off to the TV room, I felt the edge of the photo poking out from my pocket.

And I left it there.

I took the old photo album upstairs to my bedroom and spent the next few hours looking through it. I’d always thought of Rumer’s dad as a Kramer family member because he looked so much like the rest of us – brown hair, solid build. But of course, Rumer’s surname was Grey. Rumer Grey. Which meant that it was her mother who had belonged to the Kramer family tree. That’s why there were so many photos of her mother’s younger years in the old family album. But that still didn’t solve the mystery of why there were no photos of Rumer with her mother. And why the family never talked about Rumer’s mother. I pulled the photo from my pocket and studied the inscription on the back.

Bec, Form 5
.

Even with the faded colours, the resemblance to Rumer was uncanny. I wondered how my aunty had died.

There was still no phone reception so I couldn’t text Isabella. As I wandered downstairs for a late lunch I realised I hadn’t given Luke his midday meal. I shoved some wood into the wood stove, then pulled the plated up meal from the warmer where Mrs Skelton had placed it many hours before.

“Is that mine?”

Luke stood at the door knocking the soil from his shoes.

“Sorry. Yes. I forgot. Come in.” I placed the plate on the kitchen table, grabbed some cutlery and a glass. “Do you want a drink?” I asked.

“Just water will do,” he said, washing his hands in the sink.

“You can eat in the dining room if you like,” I offered.

“I usually eat at the cottage,” Luke explained. “Here’s okay.”

He sat down to eat when the phone rang. I heard Rumer pick up, then moments later she came into the kitchen.

“Oh, hello,” she said to Luke, coolly. “How’s work going?”

“Enough of it,” he said. “How’s everything going?”

Luke seemed to be putting a lot of emphasis on the word “everything” and I wanted to say “I know what you are talking about”, but of course I didn’t.

“
Everything
is fine,” said Rumer.

“Who was on the phone?” I asked.

“Nobody,” said Rumer. “At least, nobody who wanted to talk. I thought I heard breathing, but they hung up.”

A gust of wind rattled the kitchen window.

“Do you think it was Grandma?” I asked.

Rumer shrugged. She opened the fridge door, wrinkled her nose, then closed it again. “I’m going out for a walk,” she said. “Down to the beach.”

There was a message there for someone to follow her, and I knew it wasn’t me.

“Okay,” I said.

“I’ll be back in time for dinner,” she said.

“Dinner?” I asked.

“I should be starving by then.”

I felt Luke’s eyes on me.

“And I’ve got a load of washing on,” she continued, “so can you just chuck those clothes in the dryer when they’re ready? But not my blue top. That can just go in the drying room.”

She was nearly out the door before I managed to say something that had taken me a lifetime to say.

“No.”

“See ya, Luke,” she said, as if she hadn’t heard me.

“I said no!”

Rumer turned around and looked at me, one hand on her hip.

“Okay, well, just leave the blue top out and–”

I shook my head.

“Oh, Freya. What is your problem?”

“I know what’s going on,” I said.

Her hand left her hip. “What …”

Luke scraped his chair back.

“Stay!” I said.

“You’re mad,” said Rumer as she turned towards the door.

“I know about the notes,” I said.

She stopped but didn’t face me.

“I know what’s going on so we can all stop pretending,” I said. “And no, Rumer. I am not making dinner. I am not doing your laundry. And I’m not putting up with you any longer …”

Of course, that’s not quite what happened.

“I’m going out for a walk,” Rumer said. “Down to the beach.”

There was a message there for someone to follow her, and I knew it wasn’t me.

“Okay,” I said.

“I’ll be back in time for dinner,” she said.

“Dinner?” I asked.

“I should be starving by then.”

I felt Luke’s eyes on me.

“And I’ve got a load of washing on,” she continued, “so can you just chuck those clothes in the dryer when they’re ready? But not my blue top. That can just go in the drying room.”

She was nearly out the door before I managed to say something that had taken me a lifetime to say.

“No.”

“See ya, Luke,” she said, as if she hadn’t heard me.

“I said no, Rumer!”

Rumer turned around and looked at me, one hand on her hip.

Then I walked out of the kitchen and slammed the door behind me.

An hour later the phone jangled in the hall and I had to rush downstairs to pick it up.