Beacon Point Beach House
This is part of the Summer Lovin' contest and I ask you to read through all the entries and vote as you see fit-- we are so fortunate to have such amazing people sharing their stories around here.
Finally, thanks to those who beta read and proofread and offered suggestions-- I'll refer to them as my analytical adventurists.
~*~*~*~*~
It should not have come as a surprise to me when the podcast I had been listening to cut out as my phone lost reception about 20 kilometres from my destination. I tried flicking through some of the radio stations and found either drawling country and western or cricket, neither of which held my attention.
I hadn't been focussing on the podcast but needed something in the background to help distract me, something to filter through my brain and stop the anxiety I always experienced on long road trips. This was not that long a trip, just over three hours from the city I had grown up in and still lived in, but I recognised how super vigilant I always was whenever I was on the road after that horrible night a little over 20 years before. That night, I lost not only my family, but it led to a personality change that hid the bright, outgoing child I had been until then, and saw me become the cautious, overthinking adult I was today.
Harriet, or Hettie as we all knew her, had insisted I spend Christmas with them. It had been hot, but it had been a nice time filled with laughter, and I did enjoy seeing the joy in Hettie and Nigel's two adorable children as they opened presents, even if Simeon was too busy trying to eat the paper. As always, my camera was in hand, shooting away and recording hard copies of memories. I knew how important photos were and how an image could evoke memories of happy times.
Refusing to drive on Boxing Day knowing the roads would be busy, I'd left a few days before driving to my summer retreat-- three weeks at Beacon Point in a beach house designed by Hettie that promised no cell phone reception, internet, or television. Three weeks for me to spend in peace and relative quiet, photographing the house and perhaps plucking up the courage to write a review of this newly built oasis.
Courage had been missing from me for many years. So many people praised me for my resilience, but not many saw the fears that enveloped me almost constantly. I had failed once too often and was scared to try something new.
When I was orphaned, it was Hettie's parents, my dad's brother, Uncle Max, and his wife, Aunt Lou, who took me in. I went from being the eldest in my family to the youngest in theirs, a few years younger than Hettie and even more distant to Baden. I was grateful they chose to adopt me, and I was not dispatched to my mother's relatives in Estonia.
"Gracie, darling, you are always considered family here no matter what, and Christmas should be spent with family." Aunt Lou's words as she hugged me tight when I arrived Christmas morning came to me as I drove in silence.
December was always tough with the anniversary of the accident, my birthday and Christmas. It had taken years for me to want to celebrate another year of living and this year people wanted to make a big deal out of me turning the big 3-0. I'd pleaded with Hettie to just ignore the day, but settled on a small family dinner, wonderfully catered by Nigel.
It was hot that evening, just as it was today, and it was nice spending time with Uncle Max, Aunt Lou, Baden and his wife Mei, and Hettie and Nigel. It was not only the anniversary of the accident that made December sad, but more recently the month I had discovered my partner's treachery. Two years on and I was still angry that I had been deceived so easily by Chad. Now, I recognised enough was enough and I needed to stop wallowing and try and create a new life.
Around a bend and my phone kicked back in long enough to alert me to a message. I pulled over to read the best wishes from Hettie. I was in awe of Hettie's brilliance. She had become a highly sought-after architect designing sustainable homes that blended with their environment. She had designed Beacon Point Beach House as a guest house on the edge of farmland in the middle of nowhere.
The land was owned by Millie and Mary Tungsten, sisters who had taken over running the farm when their father died ten years ago. They had diversified into goats and produced award-winning goat's cheese. Nigel came across the sisters and their cheese as part of his business and put them onto his wife when they talked about building a guesthouse on the edge of their property.
"It's just the most amazing site, Grace," Hettie had gushed after she first saw the place. "I mean, the farm's been in the family for generations and in the 1850s they tried to get a lighthouse built on the point, but no one would fund it, so they built a beacon and would head out each night over twenty kilometres to light it to warn ships off the rocks. There was a cottage there that was run down and the most amazing steps that lead down to the beach below. I can't wait to design them an oasis."
And she had. Millie and Mary were so thrilled that they told Hettie she could use it whenever she wanted, and Hettie decided to book it for me to escape to for three weeks after Christmas.
"You can take photos and stuff and just relax. The kids would hate no TV or internet, but the space is gorgeous! It's got two bedrooms, one with bunks for kids and the other a romantic retreat. Nigel and I will bring the kids down overnight one weekend to see you, but I don't know if they could cope with much more." Hettie had told me.
It did sound idyllic. I was used to being alone and looked forward to being able to stick to my own timetable and take plenty of photos of the coastline around the house.
Over my birthday dinner Hettie, Nigel and Baden all had guys they wanted me to meet, but I was not interested.
"You'll love Paul, Grace-- he's not an oil painting, but he's really charming and his ex-wife was a real cow to him," Baden had offered.
"No, not that guy you play basketball with?" Mei had chimed in. "He's a sleaze!"
"Don't worry, Cuzzie, you need to meet Jason, a new junior architect at the firm and he is hot as mustard. You just need to clean your pipes out if you get my drift!" I loved Hettie, but I also knew how flamboyant she became after a few too many glasses of wine.
"Hon, I told you Al, one of my best customers, would be perfect for Grace!" Nigel added.
"Children!" Aunt Lou had laughed, "Grace is sitting right here and I'm sure when she's ready she'll meet someone. Now where's the cake?"
Meet someone? I didn't know if I wanted to meet anyone. I enjoyed my solitude and Hettie knew me well to suggest I stay at Beacon Point. The idea of a total retreat sounded lovely. My friends were mostly married with young families themselves. I'd lost touch with school friends when I chose not to pursue a university education, much to my aunt and uncle's shock, but instead chose to travel.
I wanted to meet some of my mother's family. She had saved all her pennies to travel and came to Australia where she met my father, the two falling madly in love. Her mother had died when she was a teenager, and her father wanted her to marry a local Estonian boy, but she had refused and decided to backpack Down Under. My parents loved to tell of their courtship; my mother's broken English and my father's poor attempts at learning Estonian phrases, not realising my mother was fluent in Russian, Finnish, and German as well.
Remembering my parents and my uncle and aunt and their devotion to each other, let alone Baden and Hettie's happy relationships, made me wonder where I went so wrong.
There had been Gustav who I met on my travels as a naïve nineteen-year-old and sponsored to come to Australia, believing it was love, only to have him leave me once his visa was approved. Although we'd been engaged, we'd never walked down the aisle together. Then I met Brian who was a party boy and strung me along for a year or two until he told me he was going to be a father. The fact that he'd waited to tell me until I was lying in bed with a hot water bottle clutched to my abdomen trying to calm the cramps that came with the shedding of my uterine lining each month was not lost on me. Then there was Chad. Charming Chad who everyone loved, but no one had seen through. I still blamed myself even though everyone told me I'd done nothing wrong, and we'd all been deceived by him.
~*~*~*~*~
The directions Hettie had given me were precise and the photos she had taken of the beach house didn't do it justice. The blue-grey Colorbond roof was the first thing I noticed, jutting into the sky, blending with both the sea and the world above us. Parking in the carport I tried the door combination, checking the message from Hettie. She told me it was the last four digits of my phone number. No joy. I tried the last four digits of her phone number, but again, no luck. In the end, I walked around the house and saw a kitchen window was open, so I removed the fly screen, grabbed a milk crate that had been sitting in the carport, and climbed through the window.
I gasped as I entered the main living area. Large windows opened to the ocean. There was a breeze, so I opened the sliding doors at both the front and back of the cottage to let the draught through. On one side of the living area, there was a bedroom with a king-sized bed which I knew I would be spending time in, reading and looking out to sea. On the other side of the living area was the second bedroom with two sets of bunk beds and a queen-sized bed. I wondered why Hettie thought Rachel and Simeon would not like it here as to me it was perfect.
There was a stereo with a turntable in the living area and I decided to put on one of the albums Millie and Mary had left for me-- the Beach Boys, which seemed oddly appropriate. After unpacking my car and putting the bottles of wine Nigel had insisted on sending down with me in the fridge, I took out some goat's cheese the sisters had left, spread it onto some crackers and decided to visit the beach.
When I arrived, I hadn't noticed the sunken hot tub in the deck outside the main bedroom and could imagine spending evenings in there as I listened to the local wildlife as the sun set. The house was idyllic. Despite being so close to the ocean, raised garden beds ran along one side of the house filled with herbs and a cherry tomato bush that was heavy with fruit.
My camera slung around my neck, I made my way down the staircase to the beach below, nibbling on a few of the tomatoes I had scavenged from the bush. Slipping off my sandals, the squelch of the sand beneath my feet was instantly calming and reminded me of the last family holiday I remembered with my parents where we had camped in a tent near the beach.
My life was full of memories, many of them sad and depressing and I had just turned 30 with no real direction or purpose in my life. I hadn't even told Hettie of my dream of taking photos for a living and even writing editorials, a travel writer perhaps. Hettie had suggested I head to uni, but I didn't like the idea of study. I had topped my school in my senior year, but I knew I didn't want to partake in more formal study. I wanted to learn through doing and through experiences; it was just that the experiences up until now had taught me some lessons I would rather not have learnt.
"Excuse me, um, hello?" I heard a voice calling from the top of the staircase. A man was standing and waving at me. He descended the stairs and started walking towards me.
Strangely I was not fearful. I hadn't expected company, but there was something about his manner that made me feel at ease. He was tall with a large smile that beamed from his face. His blonde, wavy hair floated over his head and looked like he threaded his fingers through it throughout the day. Tilting his sunglasses onto his head I saw his blue-grey eyes and wondered how much the colour was enhanced by the environment we found ourselves in.
"Excuse me, hi, are you Millie or Mary?"
"Sorry? I'm Grace, Grace Alexander."
"Alex is fine, only my mum calls me Alexander."
"No, sorry, my name is Grace Alexander! I'm staying at the beach house."
"This is a bit weird!" he laughed, "My name is Alex Grace and I've booked to stay here for two weeks."
I could hear what he was saying, but it was not making sense. Hettie was methodical and organised and would not have told me she had booked the beach house for me unless she had.
"But the beach house, it's only just been finished, and I was told... I'm sorry, but there's been some misunderstanding; I'm here to get away from everything."
"You and me both. I, um, well, my mate, Nigel, well, mate is possibly too strong a word, well, he runs a deli that I frequent probably more often than I should, and he told me his wife was designing this place and gave me the number of Millie and Mary, the sisters who own it. I booked directly with them."
"Nigel, Nigel Alexander-Brown? He's my cousin-in-law or something. He's married to my cousin anyway and she designed it and arranged for me to stay."
I could see we were getting nowhere. I made my way to the stairs and ascended to the top of the cliff. Alex followed behind me. I knew I could not make it home before nightfall and I refused to drive at night. Somehow, I would need to make this intruder leave. When he had approached I had thought he was simply visiting, but discovering we were double-booked into the same place made me a little more uneasy.
"Look, I'm really sorry about all of this, but I'll show you my booking on my phone, here." Alex shoved his phone into my face, showing he was exasperated as I was.
"I'm sorry," I sighed, "There seems to have been a mix-up, what with our names and all. I, well, I don't drive at night, and I won't get back to the city before nightfall."
"No, don't do that-- look, Millie sent this email and called me Mr Alexander. I suspect she thinks we're a couple or something."
"Wait, did your code work in the door?"
"Never tried as the doors were open. Hey, look, why don't we try and find the farmhouse and see if something can be sorted?"
"Like what? There's not an extra beach house or anything! This is the prime holiday season and even the dodgy looking motel in town had a no vacancy sign lit up out front. Look, I'll take the second room tonight and be out of your hair tomorrow, ok?"
"Well, no." I could see Alex wanted to argue. "Let's see what we can sort out. I see Nigel sent you with some of the same wine he sold me before Christmas-- it's either really good or he needed to get rid of it!"
"Nigel only drinks decent wine, and he wouldn't sell anything that wasn't up to his standard. Hettie, his wife, pranked him once by filling a wine bottle with box wine and Nigel almost had a heart attack. He wanted to ring his contacts and was getting ready to send a pallet or two back and change suppliers before Hettie came clean! He's a total wine snob!"
"I like Nigel a lot. He's, well, he's a good listener. I moved to the city 18 months ago and he is one of the few people I know outside of work which is pretty sad really. Look, I'm a bit of an amateur cook, and I knew Millie and Mary would leave some of their cheese, and I was going to make pasta. Would you mind if I cooked for you?"
No man had ever cooked for me. Well Aunt Lou and Uncle Max shared cooking duty growing up, and Nigel was often catering for family functions, but cooking had always been my domain. Even though Nigel owned the deli and a successful catering business, I still insisted on contributing to meals when we met. Although I was well aware I was now intruding on this gentleman's space, I thanked him for his offer.
Sitting on a deck chair on the verandah, I was glad for the breeze that hid the heat of the evening. Although I contemplated helping Alex with dinner, I was grateful for the time I could spend alone. Every so often I would raise my camera and take a photo of a bird that had landed on the birdbath in the corner of the yard or a flock of seagulls that circled overhead.
Alex brought me a glass of wine and I told him about the herb garden which excited him. I hadn't known what all the herbs were, identifying the small amount of parsley, mint and basil, but Alex was thrilled to see native Australian ingredients planted amongst everything.
I let out a huge yawn as Alex appeared through the doors and handed me a bowl of pasta.
"More wine?" he asked as he topped up his glass.
"No, thanks. One's my limit. I'm already tired, and if I have more than that I end up drinking a whole bottle and wake up with a headache."
"It's not like you need to be anywhere, but I totally understand if you don't want any more."
I held out my glass as Alex topped it up.
"This is amazing! What did you use?" I asked as I savoured a mouthful of the pasta.
"I stuffed the ravioli with some of the goat's cheese and native pepper berry-- it's a great combination. It's just a brown butter sauce with it and a little salad foraged from the planter. I did bring some salad greens with me, but I wanted to use the local stuff I suppose tonight. I'm glad I have someone to cook for and someone who appreciates it. It really warms my heart."
"Are you a chef?" I asked as I savoured the latest mouthful of dinner.
"No! I'm a teacher, well I was. I've, um, taken time off."
"You teach cooking then?"
"No!" Alex laughed, "I'm an art teacher, but for younger kids."
"That's like, wow!"
"It had its good times, but I want to explore more. What about you?"
"I had a travel agency. I'd built it up and we prided ourselves on offering real-life experiences and being able to recommend places to stay and go to, but, well, I don't have it anymore."
"Business is tough with the internet and all."
"Yeah." I tried to focus on the food and not think about the toughness of it all. I didn't want to unload on a stranger and tell him I'd been between jobs for almost two years. What I wanted to do and what I had the confidence to do were two different things.
"I can see you like taking photos," Alex offered as we finished our dinner.
"Yeah, it's a bit of a passion of mine. Look, I'll go and do the dishes and you sit out here and drink your wine."
Alex didn't argue with me. He merely smiled and handed me his bowl and said thank you. I didn't want to tell him my life story as I was leaving in the morning, well, after lunch really as I hoped the roads might be quieter.
When I returned to the verandah, Alex was asleep in his chair. I hadn't unpacked my suitcase, so I simply moved it from the main bedroom to the family bedroom, leaving Alex to enjoy the larger bed. As I brushed my teeth and washed my face, I decided I would need to book another time to come and stay at the beach house as it really was a beautiful place.
I tried to watch the sunset and remember seeing the first crimson hues creep across the horizon, but before I knew it, I was awake, and a new day had dawned.
Although I was not a morning person, I was unable to sleep in for long once the sun was up. Yawning, I made my way to the kitchen still wearing the oversized pyjamas I slept in. I had all but forgotten about Alex until I saw the clean dishes from the night before and remembered his amazing pasta dish.
With the kettle boiled, I made a pot of tea and went to sit on the verandah. It was going to be another warm day judging by the early temperatures. I had packed the ingredients to make a batch of toasted granola and decided to cook it up and leave it for Alex when I left as a thank you for dinner the previous evening.r"
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