The House at the Bottom of the Hill (36 page)

‘Dan’s going for Charlotte.’

‘Now? Grace! Quick. Take the brake of this infernal chair. Dan’s going for Miss Simmons.’

Jesus, there was nothing private around here but Dan didn’t care. He pushed through the doors and strode down the walkway, people falling out of Kookaburra’s behind him. He jumped the steps to the road, swung open his car door to grab what he’d been stealing from people’s gardens and picking from the hillside and the verges all night.

He turned to Lucy, who’d trotted out after him. ‘You shouldn’t be at my side,’ he told the dog. ‘You should be with Charlotte.’

Lucy tilted her face and looked at him with a forlorn expression.

‘Yeah,’ Dan said. ‘I know, Luce. You want to be with both of us, don’t you? Well, here goes. But I’m going to need your help. Take this.’ He handed Lucy her parcel. She took it in her mouth. Her eyes glazed as she tasted it. ‘Don’t bite through it,’ Dan warned.

He bent and stuck the note he’d written earlier into the dog’s collar. ‘Okay, Luce. Thanks for your help here.’ He turned for the B&B. ‘I’m gonna need it.’

Chatter and clatter followed him as the townspeople got themselves into some sort of order. Dan didn’t look back. The cherry-red door was in sight—the rest of his life behind it.

‘How are we going to get the wheelchair down the steps?’ someone asked.

‘Get me out of it,’ Ted yelled. ‘There’s important town business going on and I need to be at the front.’

‘He’s going to ask her to marry him,’ someone said in an exasperated tone. ‘What decisions are
you
going to make?’

‘How dare you!’ Ted’s voice boomed behind Dan. ‘There’ll be a memorial, a christening and a wedding going on in town and where do you think we’ll be holding the services? In our Town Hall, that’s where. And who’s in charge of the Town Hall regulations? Me, that’s who.’

Dan kept walking. He knew there’d be memorial and christening services but he had no idea if a wedding would be taking place.

Metal and wood crashed and rumbled behind him. Shit. It had to be the wheelchair.

He turned to the walkway hoping Ted wasn’t in it. Ted stood at the top of the steps supported by Grace and one of the twins, his bound left leg thrust forwards. The other twin jumped down the steps and righted the wheelchair. ‘Come on, Dad,’ she called. ‘Get your bum in the chair. This is important town business.’

Dan couldn’t hold onto his smile. He loved this town. But he loved Charlotte more, and if he had to move out of town and follow her to the Starfoot Lower-forest place in England, he’d be doing that. Even if it meant he never came back here. He couldn’t be whole without her.

Once he saw the townspeople rally, helping Ted to hobble down the steps and once more allowing him to take charge, Dan squared his jaw and turned for the house at the bottom of the hill. He hoped like crazy the words inside his head made their way from his brain to his vocal cords without getting mangled by his tongue.

Charlotte paced the hallway, back and forth, her mind in a spin.

She’d had her shower, hot and stinging on her dusty skin, but she hadn’t cried. Not a single tear. Why? Because her resolve had backfired. Perhaps she’d faced more than her fears in the dark of the enclosed cave. It looked like she’d found a new type of courage.

So, she asked herself silently once more as she paced, should she stay? Stick it out and accept whatever the consequences would be? Yes, she had the courage for that.

She halted. Maybe she didn’t have the courage for that—not if rejection was the outcome. She flung her hands in the air.
Make a decision, woman
.

Her time in Swallow’s Fall had shown her so much about other people. She’d been taken out of the misery of being Charlotte Simmons, holding herself aloof in case the world noticed how lonely she was, and had been transformed into Charlotte, grown woman, still lost but hoping.

Maybe she could talk to Ted and Grace. To Mrs Tam and Clarissa. She’d ask their advice on where they thought she stood— and what chance they felt she might have at winning Daniel back.

No. What was she thinking? She couldn’t spread the news of her love for Kookaburra’s owner. It wouldn’t be fair on Daniel. He might not be in love with her. She had a healthy suspicion he might love her, a bit—the lower-scale bit where affection for a person turned into love for a person—but his type of love might not hit the higher-ranks, whereas Charlotte’s love hit the sky in a roaring display of fireworks she wanted lighting the night forever.

She groaned, buried her face in her hands. Make a bloody decision!

‘Knock knock.’

She dropped her hands, lifted her face and blinked.

‘I know you’re not talking to me but I’ve got something to say and I need an answer.’

Charlotte inhaled and settled herself. Since what she wanted most in the world was standing right in front of her, she’d better find that courage or she’d miss her chance. She moved to the doorway and opened the flyscreen.

‘Actually, I am talking to you now.’

‘I’m a bit out of my depth,’ Daniel continued as though he hadn’t heard her. ‘So I’d appreciate it if you gave me a moment to get my words right. And as you can see, I’ve got a following.’

Charlotte peered over Daniel’s shoulder. Blood drained from her head when she saw the entire town gathering at the end of her lawn. Damn it—Daniel’s lawn.

‘I want to move in,’ Daniel said.

‘You want to move in right now?’ she asked in a barely there voice.

‘If you’ll let me.’

‘What’s going on?’

‘Sorry about the audience, but you know what they’re like.’

‘Are you all here to kick me out?’ Oh dear God, surely not? She hadn’t started packing. All the utility surfaces needed a wipe down. There was five weeks’ worth of dust motes in the kitchen, and a lifetime of regret in her heart. Neither of which could be swept away at a moment’s notice.

‘Actually, Charlotte, it’s more a case of me being kicked out if I don’t get this right.’

‘Get what right?’

‘You and me.’

‘There’s a you and me?’

‘What did she say?’ someone called from behind Daniel.

He turned to the crowd. ‘I haven’t got to that part yet.’

‘What are you waiting for?’

‘Privacy!’ Dan turned to Charlotte. ‘Can I please come inside?’

Charlotte stepped back from the flyscreen and he entered the house. She had a split second to notice the wonderful sunrise shadowing his handsome face and his tall, beautiful body in rays of morning glory before he spoke.

‘I brought Lucy with me.’

Lucy looked up at Charlotte, her eyes wide and her mouth full of a posy.

Dan retrieved it from Lucy’s mouth, wiped the stems and handed it to Charlotte.

A small posy of flowers. Some looked wild, or as though they’d been picked from gardens. ‘They’re beautiful.’ This had to be the moment she hadn’t expected so why wasn’t she feeling elated and brave? Why wasn’t her head listening to her heart? Because she couldn’t quite believe that this might the moment she found all the right colours of love around her.

Daniel pointed at the flowers. ‘The geranium means stupidity. Entirely on my part. The freesia next to it asks if you’ll trust me. The viscaria asks if you’ll dance with me, because …’ He paused, the tan on his face fading a little as he looked Charlotte in the eye, then looked down at Lucy.

He nudged the dog with his foot and she trotted to Charlotte.

‘Open it,’ Dan said, pointing at the note tucked in Lucy’s collar. ‘It says everything I want you to know.’

How many notes from Daniel had she read? Dozens; each full of coded meaning or jocular fun. She hardly dared read this one.

‘Please open it,’ Daniel said again.

Charlotte unfolded it, her fingers shaking, and was instantly blinded by tears.

The primrose means I can’t live without you
.

She looked up at Daniel from beneath her damp lashes.

He shrugged a shoulder, head cocked to one side. ‘I Googled it—the meaning of the flowers. I wanted it to be right. It’s my gesture, Charlotte.’

‘I love you.’

Daniel stalled, his eyes widening. ‘I love you too.’

‘You do?’ He did? Top-of-the-scale love? ‘How much?’

‘Enough to tie you down and keep you prisoner in town until you understand how much.’

‘Oh, Daniel.’

He crossed to her and grabbed her, wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling his face in her hair. ‘I love you, Charlotte. Will you marry me and give me and Lucy a place at your side for the rest of our lives?’

‘In this house?’

‘Our house. Say yes.’

The house at the centre of her universe.

‘Do one thing for me,’ she said.

‘I want to do a hundred and one things for you.’

‘Don’t forget to think of me as Red sometimes.’

He leaned back, still holding her. ‘That scares the hell out of me. What do you mean, sometimes?’

‘Is there a flower for stubbornness?’

He shook his head. ‘Don’t know, but I’ll look it up and plant a garden full of them. I was stubborn as all hell. Right from the beginning. I fancied you and refused to acknowledge it. I liked arguing with you and making you prickly because I loved the sparkling light in your eyes.’

Oh, how wonderful. He loved her prickly nature.

‘When I look at you, I see laughter and love, Charlotte. I love you the way I love the wildflowers in spring. I would no more squash the flowers in your heart than I would tread over those wildflowers on our hillside. They’re one to me.’

Charlotte had stopped breathing long before he’d finished speaking. She’d probably forget the majority of his words, but she’d remember the look on his face and the intent of his tone forever. And the flowers.

‘Please don’t leave me alone with memories of how you look,’ he said, ‘because eventually they’d fade and I’ll be left with nothing but a soft picture of you and that’s not enough. I want you. With me, beside me.’ He paused. ‘Can you forgive my stubbornness?’

‘I didn’t mean you,’ she said. ‘I meant me. I was stubborn and proud, with you and the townspeople. I’ll regret that for the rest of my life.’

He released her and spread his hands. ‘What’s to regret? You’ve done nothing wrong—you’ve opened us up. You brought us light, Charlotte.’

‘Red,’ she whispered. ‘You can call me Red.’

‘I just want to call you mine.’

Charlotte looked over his shoulder and out the flyscreen door. ‘I have to be sure of something.’ She moved around him.

He followed and put his hand on the flyscreen to stop her from opening it. ‘I’m not letting you go.’

She looked into his eyes and saw love; felt loved. Recognised she was part of something wonderful, which meant being whole. She pulled a freesia stem from the posy and handed it to him. ‘Trust me.’

He let go of the flyscreen and as Charlotte stepped onto the veranda, she remembered the little girl she’d been—the one
before
the event. That little girl had returned to the woman and the woman wanted a future. The house had no owner yet. It stood empty, incomplete. But this house would never be unoccupied again, if Charlotte had her way.

She heard Daniel step outside behind her as she faced the citizens of Swallow’s Fall. And perhaps one member in heaven, who might have guided her mother and her gran to this place too, to witness Charlotte’s moment of truth.

‘Daniel has asked me to marry him,’ she told the gathering.

No response.

‘The problem with this is …’ She faltered, then pushed aside the dread of rejection. ‘The problem is, I want to, desperately. I love him. But I’m not sure if you want me to.’

Charlotte couldn’t tell what the silence meant but she guessed every person looking at her was holding their breath. ‘I love him,’ she said again, her voice firmer. ‘I love this house. I love your town.’ From the shuffling, she could be sure they’d heard that last bit. ‘I’d like to be a part of you all.’ Her voice was steadier, much more the Charlotte she wanted to be.

‘So—this is my proposal. I want to marry Daniel and live with him in Swallow’s Fall. I want to be part of your community. We would live in this house.’ She indicated the flaking paint with her hand. ‘We’d call it the House at the Bottom of the Hill but it would be our home, not a business.’ She nodded down Main Street. ‘We’d work together at Kookaburra’s, running it as a hotel and making sure everyone who came to stay was treated with welcome and with courtesy. But we’d ensure they respected your town. We wouldn’t put up with any nonsense.’ She looked over her shoulder. ‘Would we, Daniel?’

She waited for him to speak. His features had softened, his lips parted, his eyes on her, full of wonder. Eventually, he shook his head and closed his mouth.

She swallowed, then licked her lips. They probably wanted more assurances from her about her feelings or about how this marriage might affect their town. After all, she’d been pretty strong-willed during the first weeks of her stay and that characteristic was likely to remain.

‘Daniel would run the bar and restaurant as he does now,’ she said, hoping Daniel didn’t mind her making these decisions for them, let alone voicing them as they came to her. ‘I’d do the morning and afternoon teas. We’d need more staff though; if anyone wanted to work for us we’d be so happy to have you on board because we’d want our business to have a special tone of friendliness about it for all of us. You, our visitors, our hotel guests, everyone.’ She glanced behind her again. ‘Would that be alright?’ she asked Daniel in a quiet, personal tone.

He nodded, a whisper of a smile of his face.

Charlotte turned back to the people of Swallow’s Fall. ‘I’ve been searching for a place to live, a place to love and to breathe in and … to just be. And I think I’ve found it.’

She glanced at Ted. He sat tall and proud in his wheelchair. He had the gavel in his hand. He twirled it gently, lowered his chin and frowned at Charlotte.

Charlotte gave him a nod of understanding. A warmth trickled through her. Ted was awarding her the gavel, telling her he was happy for her—probably only in this instance, but what an important instance—to be doing his job.

‘I want to stay,’ she told everyone. ‘But we have to do this properly.’ She raised her chin, lengthened her spine. ‘Those for,’ she said, voice loud and resolute. ‘Raise your hands.’