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
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Nicole was all but plonked into the kitchen chair as Mandy fussed about, putting on a pot of tea and telling her all about how Carole was diagnosed with early-onset dementia. Nicole’s heart went out to her as Mandy described the day Carole had walked out the front door and up the street completely naked. Thankfully, Charlie had found her at the cove and brought her home, knocking on their front door, silently returning Carole into their care. Mandy’s gratitude was not just for her mum’s safe return, but also for knowing Charlie wouldn’t speak a word of her mother’s undignified demise. Nicole wondered if this was the memory that had choked Mandy up at dinner when she was talking about Charlie that night.
Nicole poured milk into her tea and stirred absentmindedly as she contemplated Mandy’s stories about Carole and Charlie.
‘You said that night at your place that Charlie’s been here about fifty years, right?’
Mandy nodded. ‘Something like that.’
So many questions ran through Nicole’s head. She was losing her battle to quell her curiosity. ‘Was that before or after Ivy died?’
‘Before. A bit before the picnics started, I think,’ Mandy said. ‘Let me see.’ She pulled an old shoebox out of the cupboard. ‘I have some photos from when I was a kid. Maybe there’ll be something useful in here.’ She pulled out a silly baby picture of herself with a nappy on her head, and a faded photo of her with friends, all of them covered from head to toe in mud. She’d been about ten, apparently, and she told Nicole how the rain just didn’t seem to stop that summer. Then she pulled out a Polaroid with muted colours and handed it to Nicole.
Nicole looked at it closely. There was a group of kids running round the edges of a picnic blanket laid out on a lawn. Even in this tired old picture the blue and white painted exterior of the cottage was striking.
‘That’s me.’ Mandy pointed to a little girl with tight red ringlets sitting with two others, surrounded by dolls, on a picnic blanket laid out on the lawn. A young boy kicked a soccer ball next to them. They were all about three or four, Nicole guessed.
‘That’s Trevor.’ Mandy pointed to the boy.
An old lady stood in the left of the photo, watching the children with a contented look across her face.
‘Is this Ivy?’ Nicole asked.
‘Yes. I don’t remember much about the picnics, but that’s her for sure.’