to.’
‘I do.’
‘Why have you never mentioned that before?’
‘I haven’t had the chance, not with your dad standing feet away, ready to shout down the suggestion, brand it one of my crazy, hippy ideas.’
Flora smiled, knowing this was true and liking the fact that they shared a confidence. It made her feel quite grown-up.
Bea disappeared briefly into the small kitchen and returned with a white laminate tray bearing two white mugs and a plate of pale gold shortbread shot through with scarlet globes; their cherry scent was impossible to ignore. She set the tray on the coffee table.
‘Come and sit down.’ She patted the sofa next to her.
Flora sank down and exhaled. ‘I like this room.’
‘My little haven.’ Bea smiled, holding the mug between her palms. ‘Are you going to try Kim’s shortbread?’
‘No. I’m good.’
Bea noted the way Flora placed her hand on the flat of her stomach as if reminding herself why cakes were not a good idea. She couldn’t remember when her own stomach had last been flat, taut. Not that she was fat, far from it, but her skin seemed to sag and crease with the creep of age, no longer clinging sharply to her muscles; it was more in league with gravity now than it ever had been. ‘Maybe later then.’ She smiled.
Flora rolled her eyes, as if this comment was reminiscent of her mother’s nagging. ‘Maybe.’
Bea sipped her drink. ‘You can stay as long as you like, darling. You know that. As long as Mum and Dad are okay with it.’
Flora nodded. ‘Thanks.’ Her sweet, open smile was familiar to Bea. This was how she pictured her, not the scowling ball of angst she had encountered earlier.
‘I’ll open the skylight in the study, roll out the futon and pop the lamp on. You’ll be snug as a bug in there.’
‘It feels nice here, Gr— Bea. Cosy.’ Flora kicked off her thongs and curled her feet under her on the sofa.
‘Thank you. I like it very much too. Even after twenty years, there’s nothing much I’d want to change.’ Bea smiled as she stared across at the open window onto Reservoir Street. ‘And to think it might never have happened – Pappy and I might have ended up in Mollymook, instead. Miles away.’
‘When Pappy retired, you mean?’
‘That’s right. When your dad was a teenager, Pappy took early retirement and we sold the business, moved down the coast to Mollymook. You’ve not been there, have you?’
Flora shook her head. She hadn’t been told much at all about her dad’s youth.
‘You’d like it, I think – there are whales and dolphins, and a lovely natural rock pool for swimming in called Bogey Hole. We were so excited. It was what we’d been working towards all those years. We couldn’t wait to start living the beach life, playing lots of golf, eating fresh fish every night.’ Bea’s eyes twinkled as the memories flashed through her head. ‘But after about a month, Pappy started getting antsy, couldn’t relax, got bored of all that golf. Truth was, he was a city boy and he needed to get back to the bustle.’
‘But what about you? Didn’t you just want to stay on the beach?’ Flora was curious, having only overheard her parents’ version of events, retold at dinner parties of how her grandparents had retired to the beach and only lasted a few weeks. ‘Threw the towel in,’ her dad had smirked with a shake of his head, as though it was in some way a failure.
‘I just wanted Peter to be happy. The day he gave up the lease on our Mollymook house, he had a spring in his step that I hadn’t seen for a long time. But I remember worrying about where on earth we were going to live. We’d got rid of the house on Melville Terrace by then, so going back to Manly wasn’t an option. But Pappy had it all worked out. He’d never sold this building.’ Bea looked up at the high apex ceiling with its exposed steel beams. ‘It seemed fitting to end up here, where we started, where we met.’
‘That’s so cool!’ Flora
‘I do.’
‘Why have you never mentioned that before?’
‘I haven’t had the chance, not with your dad standing feet away, ready to shout down the suggestion, brand it one of my crazy, hippy ideas.’
Flora smiled, knowing this was true and liking the fact that they shared a confidence. It made her feel quite grown-up.
Bea disappeared briefly into the small kitchen and returned with a white laminate tray bearing two white mugs and a plate of pale gold shortbread shot through with scarlet globes; their cherry scent was impossible to ignore. She set the tray on the coffee table.
‘Come and sit down.’ She patted the sofa next to her.
Flora sank down and exhaled. ‘I like this room.’
‘My little haven.’ Bea smiled, holding the mug between her palms. ‘Are you going to try Kim’s shortbread?’
‘No. I’m good.’
Bea noted the way Flora placed her hand on the flat of her stomach as if reminding herself why cakes were not a good idea. She couldn’t remember when her own stomach had last been flat, taut. Not that she was fat, far from it, but her skin seemed to sag and crease with the creep of age, no longer clinging sharply to her muscles; it was more in league with gravity now than it ever had been. ‘Maybe later then.’ She smiled.
Flora rolled her eyes, as if this comment was reminiscent of her mother’s nagging. ‘Maybe.’
Bea sipped her drink. ‘You can stay as long as you like, darling. You know that. As long as Mum and Dad are okay with it.’
Flora nodded. ‘Thanks.’ Her sweet, open smile was familiar to Bea. This was how she pictured her, not the scowling ball of angst she had encountered earlier.
‘I’ll open the skylight in the study, roll out the futon and pop the lamp on. You’ll be snug as a bug in there.’
‘It feels nice here, Gr— Bea. Cosy.’ Flora kicked off her thongs and curled her feet under her on the sofa.
‘Thank you. I like it very much too. Even after twenty years, there’s nothing much I’d want to change.’ Bea smiled as she stared across at the open window onto Reservoir Street. ‘And to think it might never have happened – Pappy and I might have ended up in Mollymook, instead. Miles away.’
‘When Pappy retired, you mean?’
‘That’s right. When your dad was a teenager, Pappy took early retirement and we sold the business, moved down the coast to Mollymook. You’ve not been there, have you?’
Flora shook her head. She hadn’t been told much at all about her dad’s youth.
‘You’d like it, I think – there are whales and dolphins, and a lovely natural rock pool for swimming in called Bogey Hole. We were so excited. It was what we’d been working towards all those years. We couldn’t wait to start living the beach life, playing lots of golf, eating fresh fish every night.’ Bea’s eyes twinkled as the memories flashed through her head. ‘But after about a month, Pappy started getting antsy, couldn’t relax, got bored of all that golf. Truth was, he was a city boy and he needed to get back to the bustle.’
‘But what about you? Didn’t you just want to stay on the beach?’ Flora was curious, having only overheard her parents’ version of events, retold at dinner parties of how her grandparents had retired to the beach and only lasted a few weeks. ‘Threw the towel in,’ her dad had smirked with a shake of his head, as though it was in some way a failure.
‘I just wanted Peter to be happy. The day he gave up the lease on our Mollymook house, he had a spring in his step that I hadn’t seen for a long time. But I remember worrying about where on earth we were going to live. We’d got rid of the house on Melville Terrace by then, so going back to Manly wasn’t an option. But Pappy had it all worked out. He’d never sold this building.’ Bea looked up at the high apex ceiling with its exposed steel beams. ‘It seemed fitting to end up here, where we started, where we met.’
‘That’s so cool!’ Flora
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