Lynsey Stevens - His Cousin's Wife

‘Two years younger and no more. That doesn’t exactly qualify you as a cradle snatcher.’

‘I’m not into that scene, Norah. You know that,’ Shea said softly, and her mother-in-law sighed.

‘It’s over four years since Jamie’s death, love. He was my son and I know how happy you made him. I also know he wouldn’t want you to lock yourself away from life.’

‘I know he wouldn’t, Norah. And I’m not really doing that.’ She shrugged a little wistfully. ‘I just don’t feel I’m ready to change that part of my life so drastically. Not yet anyway.’

‘Jamie, well, we all loved him and I know he’d want to see you happy.’ Norah paused. ‘But Niall’s growing up. Perhaps he needs a father.’

‘Niall’s doing all right. He has us and his teachers at school. Male and female, we’re all good role models. He’s OK as he is.’ Shea looked up at the older woman. ‘He is, isn’t he, Norah?’

She nodded. ‘Yes, he’s a fine young man. Although my opinion may not hold water when you consider I’m his doting grandmother,’ she added with a laugh, and Shea smiled.

‘I do sometimes look at him and wonder if I should take the accolades for having such a bright, well-adjusted son. Or if it’s just Niall’s innate good sense.’

‘A little of both, I’d say.’ Norah began to wash her baking dishes. ‘And if I was into that previous life stuff, I’d say young Niall Finlay had been here before.’

Shea picked up the tea towel and started to wipe the dishes.

‘Jamie would have been so proud of him,’ Norah added softly, and Shea let her gaze fall to the tray in her hands.

A tiny pain flickered in her chest, grew tentacles that clutched at her heart. ‘Yes,’ she agreed evenly, not meeting her mother-in-law’s eyes, and they continued to work side by side, each lost in her own thoughts until the silence was broken by the slam of the front screen door.

‘Gran. Mum. I’m home.’

Niall Finlay ran into the room and shrugged off his windcheater. His fair hair was standing on end and the wind had whipped colour into his cheeks.

‘Wow! It was so windy down by the beach it would blow dogs off chains.’ His hazel eyes widened appreciatively. ‘Cookies. Excellent, Gran. Can I have one?’

Shea exchanged a glance with Norah and grimaced. ‘One only,’ she acquiesced guiltily. ‘I don’t want you to spoil your dinner.’

‘No way. I could eat a horse and chase his rider,’ the young boy quipped as he took a bite of his biscuit.

‘I don’t know where you pick up all those colourful sayings,’ his mother commented and he grinned.

‘From Gran.’

‘So where have you been?’ Norah put in quickly to change the subject.

‘Riding my bike. Pete and I went down to the beach and around the place and guess what?’

His mother and his grandmother raised enquiring eyebrows.

‘Someone must be going to live in the big white house around the bay.’

Shea’s breath caught somewhere in her chest and she felt the warmth of colour rise in her face. For long moments she couldn’t bring herself to look at the older woman. When she did, she saw the concern in Norah’s eyes.

‘There’s a plumber’s ute and an electrician’s van and guys everywhere,’ Niall continued. ‘And they’ve started to paint the place. And guess what else? It’s not going to be white anymore. It’s sort of yellowy-cream. We won’t be able to call it the big white house now.’

‘That will be a pity,’ his mother replied carefully, and Niall nodded.

‘People are going to be all confused,’ he said in a voice of doom. ‘If you ask for directions around here they say, “Go down to the big white house and turn left” or “Don’t go as far as the big white house” and stuff like that.’

‘Yes. When you put it like that, it does sound as though we’ll all have to get used to the change,’ his grandmother agreed.

‘Well, how about your homework,’ Shea reminded her son and he went towards his room with a grumble, leaving behind a heavy silence in the kitchen.

‘This doesn’t mean anything,’ Norah said at last as Shea kept rubbing the tea towel over the already dry cookie tray.

‘No.’ Shea agreed quietly.

“The big white house has only been leased for short times on two or three occasions. And Joe Rosten himself hasn’t been near the place in over ten years. Why come back now? He’s most likely sold it.’

‘Yes, he probably has,’ Shea agreed again.

‘And I shouldn’t think Alex would be coming back here.’ Norah glanced concernedly at her daughter-in-law. ‘If he had, I’m sure he’d have already called in to see us. I am his aunt. And now that his father has remarried and is living in the States he really has no ties here in Byron.’

‘There’s still the cottage,’ Shea said absently.

‘The tenants are still there,’ Norah reflected with a frown. ‘David hasn’t mentioned anything about the cottage being on the market, has he? I mean, working for the major real estate agency in the town, David would surely know if a cottage a few doors down from our place was up for sale.’

Shea shook her head. ‘No. And he hasn’t said anything about the big white house changing hands, either.’ She set down the cookie tray and looked at the other woman. ‘Which is a little strange in itself, don’t you think?’

Norah shrugged. ‘Perhaps not. Maybe the new owners didn’t want any publicity. And you know that’s what a lot of famous people like about this area. The town closes ranks and can be as secretive and protective as a mob of minders.’

‘Yes, that could be it. Perhaps a pop star or someone like that has bought the white house.’ Shea relaxed a little, a ray of hope growing stronger in her heart.

‘Who knows.’ Norah gave a soft laugh. ‘Pop stars. Movie stars. All sorts of entrepreneurs. Stranger things have happened around here, you have to admit.’

Shea smiled faintly, too. ‘That they have.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘Well, I think I’ll go and have a quick shower and then I’ll come and help prepare dinner.’

Two hours later Norah called from the front room. ‘Here’s David now, Shea.’

Niall made a noise into his book.

‘Did you say something?’ Shea paused and he sighed theatrically.

‘Is that David Aston again?’ he asked, twisting his pencil in his hand.

‘Yes. You know he usually gives me a lift to the Progress Association meetings,’ she replied perfunctorily. ‘Why?’

‘You’re not going out with him, are you? I mean, on a date or anything?’

‘No. Of course not.’ His mother frowned. ‘What on earth makes you ask that?’

‘Oh, nothing.’

‘Niall, what’s the problem?’ Shea asked gently.

‘I just don’t think I’d like you and David, well, you know. I mean, he’s all right I suppose but he’s kind of, well, a bit of a wuss.’

‘A what?’ Shea raised her eyebrows at the unfamiliar term, and Niall grinned sheepishly.

‘A wuss. He’s wussy.’

‘I haven’t the faintest idea what that means, Niall,’ Shea told him firmly, ‘but it doesn’t sound complimentary.’

“It’s not that bad really, Mum. Depends how you look at it. But he is a bit of a wimp and,’ Niall gazed up at her seriously, ‘I guess I mean he’s not good enough for you.’

‘Oh.’ Shea swallowed a laugh. ‘Is that right? And who, in your opinion, young man, is good enough for your aging mother?’

Niall grinned again. ‘Tom Cruise.’

Shea did laugh then. ‘Mrs Tom Cruise might have something to say about that.’

‘How about someone like Pete’s father then?’ Niall tried again. ‘He takes Pete fishing and stuff.’

‘A small problem there, too.’ Shea pulled a face at him. ‘Pete’s very nice mother.’

‘’Spose she is pretty nice.’ He sighed again. ‘Gosh, Mum! Are all the good blokes taken?’ he asked with his grandmother’s intonation.

Shea ran a hand over his fair hair and bent to kiss him on the cheek. ‘Rumour has it that that is unfortunately so,’ she said with a smile. ‘If I’m home late I’ll see you in the morning. OK?’

‘Sure. Have a good time.’

‘At a meeting?’ Shea grimaced sceptically. ‘But, to return to the subject of good blokes, on the remote chance I do see one, I’ll try not to let him get away.’

Niall chuckled and gave his mother a thumbs up sign. ‘Excellent decision, Mum. See you.’

Shea was still smiling when she climbed into David’s car.

‘What’s the joke?’ he asked, and she shook her head.

‘Nothing interesting,’ she answered a little absently and for the first time Shea found herself really assessing him.

David Aston was quite good-looking with dark hair and eyes and he was, she knew, a relatively quiet and unassuming young man.

A wuss? A wimp? Niall’s description came into her mind and she pushed it guiltily away. No, David was simply, well, somewhat dull. That didn’t mean he was a wimp.

Yet one thing was certain, Shea acknowledged. She knew she wasn’t attracted to him. To any man, for that matter. And hadn’t been for such a long time...

Shea shifted agitatedly and quickly forced her disquieting reflections out of her mind. She made herself make pleasant conversation to distract herself from her unsettling thoughts. ‘So, what do you think will be on tonight’s agenda at the meeting?’

‘We had a few points to discuss that were carried over from last month,’ David said earnestly as he turned the car onto the road into the town centre. ‘I believe I heard someone suggested picketing the council offices about the new sewerage pipes. I can’t say I find that acceptable behaviour.’

Shea raised her eyebrows. ‘So you’re not into passive resistance?’

‘Of course not. I can’t see any point in making an exhibition of one’s self. There are other more, well, urbane ways of doing things.’

‘Mature discussion?’ Shea suggested, and David brushed a hand over his dark hair.

‘Of course. People do associate picketing and rallying with the, well, the unsavoury hippie element. Don’t you think, Shea?’

Shea bit her lip reflectively. There were a number of alternative lifestyle groups in and around Byron Bay but Shea didn’t consider them to be unsavoury. She glanced sideways at David and saw his lips were pursed in disapproval. ‘I think most people would stand up and be counted if a point was to be made,’ she said carefully.

‘But there are proper channels. So distasteful to see all those long-haired, untidy-looking people standing about.’

Shea sighed. She really didn’t have the energy or the inclination to argue with David.

‘I know I’m a relative newcomer, I’ve only been here a year or so,’ David was continuing, ‘but I chose to come here because it was a quiet, beautiful little town with none of the so-called bright light attractions.’

‘Well, Byron Bay certainly is that.’ Shea glanced at the row of modest houses in the street as they drove past. She loved the place, with the laid-back lifestyle that was usually associated with Australian beach communities.

‘I saw Niall riding his bicycle down by the beach this afternoon,’ David had changed the subject.

‘Bicycle-riding is one of his passions at the moment,’ Shea replied thoughtfully and recalled her son’s revelations about the big white house. ‘How’s the real estate business at the moment?’ she asked as casually as she could.

‘Can’t complain. I sold the Martin house to Jack Percy’s son. He’s getting married at the end of the year and is going to renovate it in time for the wedding.’