Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
The next morning, Sam knocked on the door of MacLeod’s Cottage although it was open, and waited on the steps. He could hear voices from the back kitchen and a radio playing classical music. They were in, but the days of his entering with a shout of hello were well past.
He knocked again, a little louder this time, and he heard a shout and saw a figure hurrying along the hall towards him.
Jen. He could tell by the way she walked — no ambling, or hesitation — and his heartbeat sped up. Seemed she felt more secure on home territory. She opened the door wider and shot him a brief, awkward smile, which disappeared far too quickly for his liking.
‘Hi, Sam,’ she said.
‘Jen,’ he nodded. ‘How are things?’ He cringed at the ubiquitous expression. He’d say that to the postie, he’d say that to people he barely knew. And he wanted to say so much more to her.
‘Fine thanks. You?’
‘Yep. All good. I’ve left a new wheel for your bike outside the shed. I’ll replace it before I leave.’
‘Oh, thanks. That’s really kind of you.’
‘No problem.’
’You must have made an early start from Wellington.’
He wiped his feet on the doormat outside. He knew from experience that Kate MacLeod didn’t appreciate muddy boots through her house. ‘Ah, no, I stayed overnight here, in MacLeod Cove.’
She opened the door further so he could enter. ‘I thought you lived in Wellington.’
‘Yeah, well, kind of,’ he said, stepping into the hall. ‘It’s complicated.’
‘Sounds intriguing,’ she said with a raised eyebrow.
‘More like frustrating.’ She didn’t move, as if waiting for a further explanation. ‘I overnight in the caravan up at the beach sometimes.’
‘Oh, but I thought it was some kind of super-luxury apartment you had in the city.’ She suddenly looked embarrassed at knowing this about him. ‘Um, Lucy mentioned something about it.’
Sam was torn between liking the fact that Lucy and Jen had been talking about him and feeling uncomfortable that he was the type of man who owned a luxury apartment. But he guessed that was the reality of the situation. That was exactly where fate had landed him.
‘I prefer the caravan. So…’ he prompted, wondering when they could move on from the subject of his dysfunctional personal life. ‘OK to come in and look at that downpipe?’
‘Oh, yes, please. Sorry. Come on through.’
As he followed Jen through the hall, he glanced in the front drawing room and immediately noticed how much shabbier it looked since he’d last been there.
He was surprised that Kate had let things slide since he’d last visited the house.
It wasn’t as if MacLeod’s Cottage had ever been pristine — that wasn’t Kate’s style — but the wall in the hall was scuffed, and the wallpaper was peeling.
It looked like she’d let things go, which wasn’t like her either.
He continued on towards the kitchen, where he could hear voices. As they entered, Kate put down the phone with a shrug and turned to face them. She gave him the kind of wide, welcoming smile, he’d have liked to have seen on Jen’s lips.
‘Sam! How lovely to see you,’ she said, giving him a hug.
‘And you. How come you don’t get any older?’
She laughed and slapped his shoulder playfully. ‘It’s not like you to turn on the charm!’ she said.
‘I don’t. You know me, I only say what I think.’ And it was true, Kate looked like she’d always looked to him — a warm embrace always ready and eyes that were both beautiful and kind. The sort of mother he’d wished he’d had. ‘And you haven’t changed.’
Kate searched his face, her own expression becoming serious. ‘You’ve changed though.’
He grunted in amusement. ‘And not in a good way, I’m sure.’
‘Looks like you’ve experienced life, Sam. And that’s not always a bad thing. It changes people, knocks some of their edges off, if you like.’ Kate glanced behind him at Jen, and for a moment he wondered whether Kate was talking about him or Jen.
‘Who was that on the phone, Mum? When we came in just now,’ added Jen to answer her mother’s puzzled face.
‘Oh that! Only the school, wanting to know my street address. Although I don’t know why. They should know where I live by now. Bureaucracy! Anyway’ — Kate continued — ‘it’s very kind of you to come around and look at this pipe, Sam.’
‘Not at all. Happy to help.’
‘It’ll probably need something stronger than the garden tie I used.’ She glanced around. ‘I’ve made a pot of coffee if you’d like one?’
He glanced at the Italian caffettiera on the hotplate and grinned. ‘My favourite, thanks Kate.’
‘The least I could do for your kindness. Now,’ she said, ‘maybe Jen can — oh, she’s disappeared.’
Sam looked around to find Jen had, indeed, disappeared. He felt his smile drop a little, in line with his spirits.
Kate shot him a polite smile. ‘No doubt gone to help Liam. He’s upstairs exploring a box of old toys I found in a cupboard in the attic. It’s nothing if not a treasure trove, this house. Even if it’s a dilapidated treasure trove.’
‘Not for long,’ he said, hoping he’d be right. ‘I’ll sort it out for you.’
‘Just the downpipe would be good. Everything else can, well, wait. Now, let’s go outside and I’ll show you the damage while the coffee is percolating.’
He nodded in agreement and followed Kate through the French doors.
He gave a low whistle as he inspected the downpipe, which now lay rusting and useless on the grass. ‘That has definitely seen better days.’
‘Haven’t we all,’ muttered Kate, followed by a sigh.
He looked up at where it had joined the gutter and shook his head. It, too, was hanging precariously, with holes through which the rain would simply pour.
‘What do you reckon?’ asked Kate, her eyes following his along the gutter of the house and up to the chimney.
‘There’s a lot of work to be done here. More than a downpipe.’
Kate grimaced. ‘But surely if you could fix that back into place with some kind of bracket or something, it would hold?’
Her mixed expression of innocence and desperation got to him. He’d never wanted to agree with anyone more.
He shook his head. ‘Nowhere near enough. I’m sorry, Kate, but none of it looks good.’
She visibly paled. ‘None of it?’
He pointed up at the gutter. ‘That’s holding together by a wing and a prayer.’
‘Maybe it just needs nailing back in place?’ she said hesitantly.
‘Into what?’ He stepped forward and pressed his finger into the weatherboard below the hole in the gutter. It sank into the wood.
‘Oh,’ said Kate.
‘It’s rotten.’ He glanced around. ‘It doesn’t look like the weatherboards are rotten everywhere, but in places they are. And unless they’re replaced, the fittings won’t have anything solid to attach to.’
Kate frowned and looked away.
‘I’m sorry, but you wanted to know.’
She forced a smile, but he could see she was upset. ‘Of course, and thanks for your honesty.’
He scratched his head as he checked out all the work that needed to be done. It was clear that no maintenance had been carried out in years. He couldn’t understand why any of her children hadn’t stepped in to help.
‘I’d have thought Dan would have been on to it.’
‘He wanted to. My son is always nagging me about it. But, to be honest, I haven’t been interested.’
Now he was really confused.
‘I know it’s hard for anyone else to understand,’ she continued. ‘But it’s amazing what one can deny and ignore when one feels angry.’
‘Angry?’ This confused him further. ‘About what?’
She sighed and looked at him with resignation. ’The house. It’s not mine, you see. None of it. And I’d always thought it was.’
‘What?’ How could the MacLeod’s Cottage not belong to Kate MacLeod? It didn’t compute.
‘It doesn’t belong to me. Only the family knows, so I’d prefer if you kept it to yourself.’
Kate turned away from him to inspect an early rose, dipping her head to inhale its scent.
‘Of course, but I don’t understand,’ he said.
‘I’m not surprised. I don’t either.’ She breathed in the flower’s fragrance one more time, as if she needed its reassuring scent to calm her. Then she turned to him again, and her warm smile was back in place. ‘Not all of it, anyway. I only understand the bottom line, so to speak.’
Sam frowned as he tried to make sense of her words. ‘The bottom line?’
‘The bit which tells me’ — she sucked in a hard breath — ’in no uncertain terms, that the house is not mine, has never been mine, nor my mother’s, nor my grandmother’s before her.’
‘So… who does it belong to?’
She shot him a quizzical glance. ‘Now, that Sam, is the million-dollar question.’
‘Mum?’ Jen called, before poking her head out the French doors. ‘Oh, there you are.’ She stepped outside with a tray of coffee and what looked like a professionally decorated cake and set the tray on the verandah table.
‘Thank you, darling,’ said Kate, as she walked up the steps to the verandah.
‘It’s so lovely to have you home again. I don’t think I’ll ever not appreciate it.’
‘You make me feel guilty.’
‘It was hardly your fault.’
Jen looked uncomfortably at Sam, and Kate followed her gaze.
‘Sam has been telling me there’s a lot more work to be done than just the downpipe.’
Jen focused on pouring the coffee. ‘I thought there would be. Both inside and out.’
‘Inside?’ Kate repeated.
‘Mum! You must have noticed the wallpaper! It was ancient when I was growing up.’
‘It’s a William Morris design.’
‘I don’t care if it’s an original Hockney, it’s peeling off the walls.’
Sam felt uncomfortable. Kate looked as if she were trying very hard not to cry. She cleared her throat.
‘I know, Jenny. I… I can’t look at it without thinking of your father. He loved it and refused to have it replaced.’ The awkward silence was broken by Kate jumping up. ‘Sam, now, would you like a piece of cake?’
‘Love one, thanks.’
She smiled and cut a piece. ‘Courtesy of Lucy.’
Jen nudged her plate forward, appreciatively eyeing the cake. ‘Even as a kid, she was always baking.’