Chapter 24
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kim
Lucinda Highgrove is waiting at the house in Oakleigh on Monday morning when Kim arrives.
The house is shabby, a dilapidated old weatherboard.
Long grass, crispy and brown in the summer heat, pushes up around the house stumps.
Kim spots rusted bicycles, tarps covering piles of something, and a heap of old tyres under the house.
She doesn’t like to think about what else is under there.
“Come in,” Lucinda says. “I’m sorry about the mess. My brother lived alone. He overdosed.” Lucinda’s lips compress. “No one found him for a few days, by then the smell…” She shudders.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. He’d been estranged from the family for a long time.
” She shakes herself as if shedding the memories.
“Anyway, I’m in Australia for a couple of weeks, and need to get the house on the market before I go.
I think this will be just a case of getting a couple of skip bins and a team to shovel it out. ”
“Can I look around?”
“Sure.”
Lucinda follows Kim as she walks from room to room.
It’s a two-bedroom, quite small, but the mess and decay are overwhelming.
She’s sure she sees a rat scurry behind a kitchen cabinet, and needles and drug paraphernalia litter the bathroom vanity.
The room stinks of something she doesn’t care to identify.
It’s a wasted day for her. She faces Lucinda. “I’m sorry, but this is outside my expertise. I declutter homes for people who want to keep what’s important to them—you need more of a hazardous waste disposal team.” She pulls out her phone. “I can help you find one, if you’d like.”
Lucinda’s shoulders droop and her body folds in. “You’re right. I didn’t look too hard at your website. I just booked you, and I apologise for wasting your time. I’d appreciate your help in finding a suitable contractor to sort out this disaster.”
“I’ll gladly do that for you.” Kim looks around. “Is there anywhere to sit?”
Lucinda’s mouth turns down. “Not here. But there is a decent coffee shop up the road. Can I buy you a coffee?” There’s a hopeful look on her face, and Kim softens.
“That would be nice. Thank you.”
Together they walk to the coffee shop, and Lucinda orders coffee and a couple of cakes.
“No offence to you or Australia, but I can’t wait to get home. This is just a nightmare.”
Kim has a feeling Lucinda wants to spill. She mayn’t have anyone to talk with about this, not face to face. “Tell me about it if it helps.”
Lucinda sighs, and over coffee and cake she launches into a convoluted tale about Tom’s PTSD, his discharge from the British Army, drug use, stints in rehab and relapses, how he stole from their parents to fund his habit.
How, when faced with an ultimatum from their parents to clean up or get out, he got out—all the way to Australia.
“I don’t know how he got the money to buy this house.
I suspect through drug dealing.” She meets Kim’s eyes.
“And of course he didn’t have a will. That is its own sweet hell, with my family being on the other side of the world.
We have a lawyer, of course, to sort it out, and the estate will eventually come to me and my parents—unless a partner or children come crawling out of the woodwork. ” She massages her temples.
Intestate. She thought that applied to Chris when she couldn’t find his will. Then, she found out there was no such person in the eyes of the law, so her enquiries had stalled.
For the first time, she wonders if Chris—Danika’s Chris—had a will, and what it said. If any will had mentioned her and Bella though, she’d know, as the solicitor would have tracked her down.
“I’m sorry,” she says to Lucinda. “That sounds incredibly stressful.” She pulls out her phone. “Let me at least find you someone to clear out the house.”
The following Saturday, Kim sits with Danika, Shirley, and Paul in their shady backyard.
The adults are lounging on the deck, full of lamb chops, grilled halloumi, and eggplant expertly barbecued by Paul.
Cami is showing Bella the less manicured part of the garden, where there’s a chook house with two plump, brown ISA hens, piles of mulch and compost, and various garden features for Paul’s landscape gardening business.
Although the hens free-range for much of the day, the girls are busy feeding them their uneaten salad.
Kim sits on the couch next to Danika. There are a few centimetres between their bodies, enough that they don’t inadvertently touch, but close enough that the pull of Danika’s pale, smooth thighs makes Kim’s fingers twitch to touch them.
The memory of Danika’s skin—so soft, so warm, so pliant—is still fresh in her mind.
The memory rises and breaks over her like the surf, sometimes catching her unawares, just like the waves.
She sees Danika looking at her, and for a moment they stare at each other before Danika looks away. Is she thinking the same thing?
Maybe.
Shirley greeted her and Bella with big hugs and then treated Bella exactly the same as Cami—as if they’re both her grandkids. And in a strange way, they both are. Paul is smiley, but less outwardly affectionate with them—but that’s okay. Kim understands that men have to be more careful.
“I had an appointment last week with someone who wants to sell the most amazing house,” Shirley says. “It’s quirky and rambling with eight bedrooms; all look as if they were added on one-by-one in the days before planning permission.”
“So about 1890 then,” Paul says.
“About then,” Shirley agrees. “It was originally a farmhouse. Now, of course, it’s part of greater Melbourne. It will be difficult to set a price, so it will go to auction.”
That reminds Kim about Lucinda. “Do you sell houses around Oakleigh?” she asks.
“No, that’s not my area. But I can put you in touch with someone good if you want.”
“It’s not for me. It’s a client I had last week—who turned out not to be a client after all.” She explains about Lucinda and her situation.
“The one you mentioned on the way back from Johanna Beach?” Danika asks.
Kim nods. “She was lovely, and I felt for her. It’s a difficult time.”
“It might not take as long as she thinks,” Shirley says.
“It’s a straightforward formula when someone dies intestate.
The courts rarely drag their heels granting the Letters of Administration.
Could be trickier with the relatives overseas, but not impossible.
Or the State Trustee could administer.” Her gaze rests on her daughter for a moment, as if expecting her to add something.
Danika looks back, one eyebrow lifted.
Bella and Cami come running back. “We brought our hobby horses with us,” Bella says to Paul. “Is it okay if we ride them in the garden? We’ll be really careful.”
“That’s okay,” Paul says. “Maybe make this a dressage day, though, rather than show jumping.”
The girls nod and go to get Lily and Cloudy.
“Last time Cami practiced show jumping, she broke several branches of the grevillea, and then ended up in the climbing roses when she said Lily shied.” He smiles indulgently. “We could just pay for riding lessons,” he says to Shirley.
“She likes her hobby horse. And it’s great for fitness, coordination, and control.” Shirley looks out to the garden where Cami and Bella are riding in a circle on the grass, lifting their feet high, the hobby horses’ heads bobbing as a real horse would do.
Shirley rises and goes to the bar fridge on the deck to retrieve the wine, offering a top-up.
Danika shakes her head; Kim accepts a small amount.
“I hear the camping went well,” Paul says. “Where else do you go other than Johanna Beach?”
“Johanna is our favourite,” Kim says. “But we also used to go to Wilsons Prom, and along the river at Bright. That’s lovely in the autumn when the leaves change on the deciduous trees.”
“Gum trees are some of the most beautiful, but there’s nothing like the changing colours on a maple or similar,” Paul says.
Kim looks at Danika. “Maybe we could take the girls camping again before the weather cools. The caravan park at Bright is lovely. Riverside camping, bike paths, and near enough to town to get pizza if we don’t want to cook!”
“That sounds fun,” Danika says. “Let’s figure out when we can do it.”
“Maybe a weekend in February.” They’re negotiating holidays, planning and arranging just like a couple, Kim realises. The thought is an uneasy one.
“Before soccer training starts again,” Danika says.
They exchange a quick grin.
Shirley watches them with a knowing expression. “It’s so good to see you two working together like this. I realise it wasn’t easy for either of you at first. Do you still have parents, Kim?”
“They live in Far North Queensland. But we’re not particularly close.
Oh, there’s no big falling out, but”—a sideways glance at Danika—“they didn’t particularly care for Chris.
Turns out they were right. I’ve told them he’s dead, but I haven’t actually told them about…
all of this. I don’t need the lecture, to be honest.”
Danika’s parents wear identical expressions of outrage.
“Surely they would support you?” Shirley says.
“Eventually.” Kim takes a tiny sip of wine. “And I’ll tell them—eventually.”
Shirley and Paul exchange a glance.
“Kim, you and Bella are welcome here anytime,” Paul says. “We consider Bella, like Cami, to be our grandchild.”
Tears prick at the back of Kim’s eyes. She knows she should have told her parents, but first it was all too raw, too stressful, too painful.
Then it was all too bizarre, too unbelievable, and yes, still too hurtful.
She just didn’t want the drama and outrage her parents would have brought, so she kept the knowledge to herself.