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Back The Cottage at Rosella Cove
Chapters (50)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Book
  3. Dedication
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty-one
  25. Twenty-two
  26. Twenty-three
  27. Twenty-four
  28. Twenty-five
  29. Twenty-six
  30. Twenty-seven
  31. Twenty-eight
  32. Twenty-nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty-one
  35. Thirty-two
  36. Thirty-three
  37. Thirty-four
  38. Thirty-five
  39. Thirty-six
  40. Thirty-seven
  41. Thirty-eight
  42. Thirty-nine
  43. Acknowledgements
  44. About the Author
  45. Also by Sandie Docker
  46. Book Club Questions
  47. Welcome to the Kookaburra Creek Café
  48. Prologue
  49. One
  50. Sign up to Read More and discover new favourites

By eight o’clock Nicole had finished sanding the floors in the living room and fell into bed exhausted without having dinner. She rubbed her temples, then her aching shoulders. She closed her eyes and it wasn’t long before she fell into the deepest sleep she’d had since her life turned upside down. She wasn’t fitful. She didn’t have strange, fragmented dreams where her life played out before her as she sat watching, silently screaming. She didn’t wake at one, or at three, or at five. She simply slept.

And slept.

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Charlie shuffled around the boatshed in the dark. That woman was so perplexing. He shook his head. Why would she bother to sit there half the morning then not even probe him with the annoying questions he’d been expecting? He’d waited for her to deafen him with endless pointless chatter, or purge her own life story as the lonely are wont to do, especially to strangers.

Not that he minded, of course. In fact, he was relieved not to have to listen to her waffle. But it was confusing. People were usually predictable. It was their only saving grace. They see an old man who lives alone and keeps to himself, they taunt him and treat him like a freak show exhibit. They see an old man who lives alone and keeps to himself, they suspect him of whatever unsolved crimes have been committed in the area.

Charlie could predict their callousness and judgement, and therefore shield himself from them.

Not that he was above judgement. That time would come one day, and when it did he’d accept his fate without fuss. But until then, he was sentenced to this shadow life.

He pottered about the boatshed, trying to shake the uneasy feeling Nicole’s presence caused in him. He’d wanted this, after all. But he hadn’t anticipated being so put out by her unpredictable behaviour – it was making him very uncomfortable.

Perhaps she’d have all the questions for him next time she came to visit. This morning was a Trojan horse visit, to convince him to let his guard down. Well, he wouldn’t allow that.

He sat on the end of his dusty old bed, surrounded by the shelving he used to divide the open space inside the boatshed. In his hand he held a photo. He had set things in motion now. And once you did that, there was no turning back. It was time to be a man. For the first time in his life.

He knew what he had to do. He just hoped he had the strength to follow it through. Courage could be a bastard of a thing to find. Especially for a coward like himself.