The Cottage at Rosella Cove
Chapters (50)
- Cover
- About the Book
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
- Also by Sandie Docker
- Book Club Questions
- Welcome to the Kookaburra Creek Café
- Prologue
- One
- Sign up to Read More and discover new favourites
Cover
About the Book
Why had the house stayed empty so long? Why had it never been sold?
LOST
Nicole has left her city life for the sleepy town of Rosella Cove, renting the old cottage by the water. She plans to keep to herself – but when she uncovers a box of wartime love letters, she realises she’s not the first person living in this cottage to hide secrets and pain.
FOUND
Ivy’s quiet life in Rosella Cove is tainted by the events of World War II, with ramifications felt for many years to come. But one night a drifter appears and changes everything. Perhaps his is the soul she’s meant to save.
FORGOTTEN
Charlie is too afraid of his past to form any lasting ties in the cove.
He knows he must make amends for his tragic deeds long ago, but he can’t do it alone. Maybe the new tenant in the cottage will help him fulfil a promise and find the redemption he isn’t sure he deserves.
Welcome to the cottage at Rosella Cove, where three damaged souls meet and have the chance to rewrite their futures.
Dedication
For Karen
One
The gravel crunched beneath the tyres as Nicole slowed the beat-up Holden Barina on her approach to the cottage. Along the peninsula that spilled down the steep cliffs into the ocean below, the sun cast long shadows.
The cottage coming into view was smaller than she’d expected, but she supposed these things were hard to judge based on a few thumbnail pictures on the internet. Still, she was lucky to be here, to have somewhere to go, so she shouldn’t complain.
She pulled up beside the broken picket gate, barely visible beneath the tangle of weeds that smothered the old fence. She wiped tears from her eyes. They still fell sporadically now, the four-hour drive doing little to dull her emotions. At least the shaking in her hands had stopped.
A cool breeze hit her bare arms and she hugged herself tightly. The taste of salt touched her lips.
The air was sharp and clean as she drew a deep breath and counted to ten. She shivered; something was not quite right. Then she recognised it. Quiet. No sirens. No traffic. No constant hum of the thousand indistinguishable sounds that surrounded you in the city. Just the breeze and the gentle crash of waves she couldn’t see.
Nicole opened the boot and she stared at the contents of her life, stuffed into the tiny hatchback – one suitcase of clothes; one box that contained a knife, a spoon, a fork, a plate, a bowl and a couple of packets of food; one brand-new phone with new SIM; one laptop.
Deep breaths, she told herself.