Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Cabarita Beach
It took around twenty hours to travel by train from Sydney’s Central Station to the small station on the outskirts of the little country town of Murwillumbah.
The train arrived around seven thirty in the evening.
Mima climbed out onto the platform, dragging her suitcase behind her and blinking in the gathering dusk.
The humidity surprised her. As the town was almost entirely encircled by gentle mountains covered in what looked like thick rainforest, it made sense that the air would feel as though she’d stepped into a tepid pool of water.
It was much greener than the landscape she’d passed by throughout the day whenever she woke from her sleep to look out the window.
She hadn’t eaten or drunk much on the journey, since that would involve walking to the restaurant car on the lurching train.
And she’d been so tired. Tired in a resigned kind of way.
After leaving everything behind in Sydney, including her heart, she didn’t have the energy for more than a couple of trips to the loo and restaurant car for a drink and small sandwich.
Now that she’d arrived, her stomach clenched and grumbled.
She was finally hungry. Ravenous. She hadn’t felt that way ever since…
well, ever since it happened. She didn’t want to think about it, or even form the thoughts to say it to herself.
She needed to hold herself together for a few hours more and figure out a way to get to Cabarita Beach and the Waratah Inn.
She had no idea which direction to take, but surely someone around here would know.
Other passengers gradually disembarked. It was the end of the line.
The locomotive had stopped at the station and would turn back for Sydney later that night.
But for now, it was parked and silent. After hours of chugging and incessant vibrations, the squeal of the whistle or the brakes on the metal rails, the quiet was a welcome relief.
Several men lugged boxes of mail, fruit and other supplies from the far end of the train.
The driver stepped out of the engine and onto the platform to stretch his back, a pipe protruding from between his lips.
Soot coated his overalls and streaked his cheeks.
The sun was low in the sky, and as she stood there, it dipped down beyond the trees behind the station, casting the entire train and everyone standing on the platform into a thick twilight.
Lamps flickered on slowly, and Mima steeled herself to walk the length of the platform.
She could’ve given her suitcase to the porter, but she no longer trusted anyone to take care of her.
Instead, having the suitcase in her hand gave her a sense of security that she wasn’t yet ready or willing to give up.
She stopped by the station’s bathroom and checked herself in the mirror.
She looked older. It took a few minutes of rambling, but she finally located her red lipstick in her toiletry bag.
She applied it to her lips, then smacked them together.
It wasn’t enough to make her appear normal again, but it helped mask the pain in her face a little.
At least, she hoped it would hold any questions at bay for a while.
She was too tired to answer them tonight.
It didn’t take her long to find a bus to Tweed Heads. Most of the passengers had boarded it already by the time she climbed the steps and found a seat. The trip was a short one, and she stepped onto the street with a sense of excitement to realise that she was almost there.
She asked around and found a taxi willing to make the trek to the Waratah Inn. The driver even seemed to know where it was, which helped Mima, since she wasn’t sure. She only knew it was in a place called Cabarita Beach, but beyond that, she was no help.
The car ride took her through a quaint beachside town that a sign announced was Kingscliff.
Then it meandered along a narrow coastal road in the pitch dark for so long that Mima began to wonder if her driver was in fact a serial murderer who’d lured her out into the wilderness to kill her.
But the taxi soon pulled into a circular drive in front of a building painted in what looked to be a deep pink colour under the glow of the car’s headlights.
She stood in front of the door for a few moments, her heart in her throat. This was it. She was about to see Edie for the first time in years. Would she be welcome? Was their friendship as strong as she remembered it? She didn’t trust her own instincts anymore.
With a quick intake of breath, she raised her hand and pounded one fist on the thick timber door.
It didn’t take long for the door to fly open and Edie was there, an apron tied around her waist. She was a little heavier than she’d been.
Her eyes had a few lines around the edges.
Her hair was shorter. But otherwise, she was Edie.
Mima’s best friend. The one person who’d always been there for her.
Mima pushed a smile onto her face and raised both hands to wave. “Surprise!”
Three days after she arrived at the Waratah Inn, Mima began to feel a little more like herself.
Edie had fussed over her, letting her sleep late, feeding her breakfast in bed, sitting together with her while she ate and recounting hilarious tales of Keith’s childhood activities, or things the guests had done, to make her laugh.
Being with her friend was the best tonic she could have taken, and it had begun to bring a little healing to her ragged and bleeding soul.
That morning, Edie brought pancakes with fresh strawberries from the garden and cream from the milking cow, a Jersey named Yoghurt, into the room after a soft tap on the door.
She set the food tray down on the stand by the bed and went to open up the heavy blackout curtains, letting a flood of summer sunshine into the room.
Edie and Paul had agreed to let Mima work in the kitchen at the inn for her keep.
They’d invited her to stay and told her they needed the help, that she would be doing them a favour.
The relief she’d felt at those words was impossible for her to communicate.
But she finally felt safe again, for the first time in months.
“You know, I’m happy for you to wake me earlier so I can help out in the kitchen,” Mima said with a yawn as she propped herself up in bed with pillows behind her back.
Edie set the tray and stand so that it was positioned in front of Mima, and then sat on the edge of the bed, one hand on Mima’s leg beneath the floral sheets.
“I know. But rest is good for you. We’ll get a contract and do it right. I want you to feel rested and ready.”
“I trust you, honey. I know you’ll take care of me.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Edie replied.
“You’re busy with the inn. I see you run off your feet all day long. And you’ve got Keith to care for…”
“You’ve helped with that already, and I really appreciate it. I’m so glad he gets to spend time with you and is getting to know you. I’ve wanted that for so long. Aunty Mima, he calls you. I’ve always told him about you—he knew about you, but he didn’t know you. It means so much to me.”
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to spend time with him. He’s a beautiful boy, and you’re doing a great job raising him, you and Paul. Paul is a good dad. You’re a very lucky woman. Do you know that?”
“I know,” Edie replied with a shy smile. “I never thought I’d get so lucky again when I lost Charlie.”
“So, let me help you in the kitchen. I know you need it.”
“You’re not ready yet. Give yourself some time. The job will be waiting for you when you’re healthy and strong.”
“It’s that obvious?” Mima asked as she poured tea from a china teapot with pink flowers on a vine that wove around the handle.
She sipped the tea. It was hot and pungent, with a hint of orange and some kind of flower.
Her tongue stung from the burning heat of it.
She added milk and sugar, then sipped again. Perfect.
“Look, Mimes, I don’t know what happened.
You keep saying you’re okay, that you just took a few wrong turns in life, but I can tell it’s more than that.
You look as though you haven’t eaten or slept in weeks.
You’re sad. In all the years I’ve known you, nothing got you down for long.
When Ollie died, I was worried you might not make it back to me, but you did.
And now… there’s an emptiness behind your eyes that worries me. ”
Mima tipped the syrup jug so that her pancakes and butter swam in it. Then she set down the jug. “I can’t hide anything from you, can I?”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but I know something’s wrong. I’m here for you—that’s all I’m saying. Even if all you need from me is pancakes and silence, that’s what I’ll give you. I only want you to be happy, darl. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”
“I know you do.” Mima reached out to squeeze Edie’s hand as tears filled her eyes.
She pushed the tray of food aside and lifted her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as she swayed slightly back and forth, her eyes fixed on the quilt at the foot of the bed.
“I had a baby.”
Edie gasped, then covered her mouth with one hand. She nodded slowly. “Okay.”
“He didn’t make it.” Mima’s brimming eyes overflowed so that tears coursed down her cheeks.
Edie’s face collapsed and she immediately embraced her friend, pressing her cheek to Mima’s. “Oh, no.”
Mima told Edie everything between sobs and broken breaths.
She blew her nose countless times and ranted about the injustice of it all.
She slapped the bed beside her and threw herself back against the pillows.
She punched the air where she wished Mrs Thompson’s face could’ve been.
She railed about the police. She sobbed over the cold phone calls with her mother and the unanswered letters written to her parents.
And she wailed when she recounted Fran’s baby being taken, then her own baby lost. And the callousness of the medical staff who wouldn’t help them when they needed it the most. Then, finally, she quieted and rested her chin on her knees, completely spent and empty inside.
“What can I do?” Edie asked, her own eyes red and her cheeks wet with the hollowed-out pain of a hour’s listening.
“Nothing. There’s nothing anyone can do.” Mima was empty. A hull. Her tone was dead. “He’s gone. Ollie’s gone. My parents don’t want me. Fran has disappeared. I’ve lost everyone and everything I cared about.”
Edie let out a cry. She sobbed quietly for a few moments, her eyes fixed on Mima’s face, and then drew in a deep breath.
She leaned forward to cup Mima’s cheeks between her palms as her eyes overflowed and silent sobs wracked her body.
“No… no. You haven’t lost everyone. Mima, do you hear me?
You haven’t lost me. You’ll never lose me. ”
Mima raised her eyes to look into Edie’s tear-soaked blue ones. “No, not you. That’s true. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
She lowered her knees and fell into Edie’s arms. Edie stroked her hair and shushed her.
She told her that she would never be alone.
That she’d always have a home with Edie as long as she wanted it.
And that they were family, the two of them.
No matter what else happened in the world around them and who abandoned them, they had each other.
They sat there crying loudly, in an embrace that soothed Mima’s pain and helped bring a small spark of hope back into her heart, until they could cry no more.