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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 the time Nicole got home, the guys were gone and Danny had left her a note. They’d be back ‘each day for the rest of the week to finish the job. Leave the electrician to me. There’s a temporary stovetop set up in the living room.’

Nicole would have to find a way to thank Danny and his friends. This old cottage really must have meant an awful lot to the people of the cove for everyone to give their time and energy so freely. Another question for her notebook. Another letter to read to bring Nicole one step closer to uncovering this story.

10th June, 1943

My Dearest Tom,

It would appear that I must continue going to church. Father Anthony’s scrutiny is proving more than troublesome to shake and when he is not watching me, his wife is. Between the two of them, they are as bad as having Mother here herself! Father Anthony is over every second day and Peggy every other.

I can now say with absolute authority that he did not marry her for her culinary skill. If she continues to so generously ply me with her sour casseroles and dry, hard roasts, I may be forced to commit a quite unchristian act. At least the goannas just beyond the tree line along the path to the boatshed do not seem to mind her cooking. I keep expecting to find one lying in the sun with its rigid claws reaching helplessly towards heaven. But they are as tough as they look, I suppose.

Oh, but I am being most wicked. She is only trying to do her wifely and Godly duty. I am too ungrateful. If Father Anthony knew my thoughts, he would no longer be so welcoming of my presence in church. You were always the better of the two of us, my darling. I fear my innate flaws show more easily without you here to temper them.

I am loath to admit, but it has crossed my mind, that perhaps Father Anthony has done a deal with the devil herself. In exchange for his spying, she loosens her notoriously tight purse strings. It would not be the first time Mother has used her money to get what she wants.

Listen to me once again. Is my soul irrevocably lost?

So, to Sunday service I must dutifully trudge each week. If Mother were to hear anything negative, she would no doubt return, and I fear how much worse she would be should that come to pass.

Lucy sat beside me last Sunday, and I must confess it did lift my miserable spirits somewhat to have her there. I hope she joins me next week and I have told her so.