So tired. In reality, his heart hadn’t been here for a long time. He had been oblivious to the hotel as it had fallen down around him. I had just never thought to look beyond the rubble.
“Dad?”
“Yeah, love?”
“It’s going to be all right. I know I haven’t said that to you, but whatever happens… I just wanted you to know that.”
“It hasn’t been an easy decision, love, but I just …”
“It’s okay.” I squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to explain.”
I didn’t really have anything else to add; I mean, what was I meant to say in times like this? Good luck? Here’s to the end of life as we know it? Hardly felt right. Instead, I shifted my seat back, got up and wrapped my arms around him for a silent moment before pecking him on the cheek and walking away.
***
The agent had said it would probably be best if we remained inside during the auction, but I couldn’t stomach not knowing what was happening outside. Melba was on standby, fetching Mum and Dad cups of tea, while Chris’s parents, Aunty Lynda and Uncle Ray, buzzed around anxiously, speculating what it would go for. That’s right, ‘it’, as if the Onslow, our pub, my home, was worth nothing more than money now. That it wasn’t a family home that had been handed down for generations, that it wasn’t a part of me. The talk of money made my stomach turn and I could feel a familiar anger boil within me.
I have to get out of here.
As I shoved the front door open and joined the bustling crowd outside I was hit with a fresh summer breeze that blew in from the lake. I tried to convince myself that it was the reason my eyes had become so shiny. The car park was packed, filled with unknown cars and faces. My skin crawled at the idea of all these people clambering around me, around my home. I scanned the crowd frantically for a familiar face, any face, but more urgently I searched for Sean. I hadn’t seen him since yesterday in the bar with Toby; and through the chaos we hadn’t even spoken. But I had never doubted that he would be out here somewhere, that he would have come, knowing what today meant for me.
I momentarily entertained the possibility that he had not come. A coldness swept over me at the thought. I really didn’t want to have to think about how I would feel about that.
I let out a long, shuddery breath as I tried to rein in my emotions as they battled inside me. I felt a reassuring squeeze to my shoulders and I spun around to see Tammy’s warm, comforting face.
“You all right?” She offered me a sad smile.
The only thing that prevented me from losing it was the fact that Toby’s parents stood nearby. Matthew Morrison playfully bumped my chin with his fist.
“She’s all right!” he said, trying to lighten the mood.
I smiled in good humour, but my legs shook underneath me. I clenched my hands into fists to stop the tremor that would give my nerves, my dread away.
“Have you seen Sean?” I scanned the crowd once more, my eyes darting amongst the nearing crowd as an anxious hum of voices settled over the masses. They looked over their pamphlets and murmured in clusters, speculating about what was to come: how much the hotel would go for, what it would become. Everywhere I looked a new-found dread made my heart rate spike. Mr. Brewster, the pharmacist, and his stiff-upper-lipped wife stood to the far right, whispering to one another, their beady eyes trailing hungrily over the exterior of the hotel.
My eyes passed over the crowd before locating a familiar face. Tess smiled and offered a small wave, standing by her parents who were in deep conversation, their faces masked behind their brochures. I allowed myself a moment of peace, of hope, of relief. They were here. It looked like they were really going to bid.
As time marched on towards the hour, I knew that Sean wasn’t coming. A numbness filled me, the crowd a mesh of shapes and colour that I refused to look over anymore.
I was snapped out of my trance by an irritatingly chipper voice.
“Oh, turn that frown upside down, Miss Henderson. The sun is shining – it’s as if Mother Nature herself has blessed us with this beautiful day.”
I blinked at a balding, beanpole of a man in a suit as he wrestled with one of the auction flags on the verandah. He looked more like a creepy funeral director than an auctioneer.
He dusted off his hands and straightened his tie. “Make no mistake, folks, we will sell today.” He beamed, as if I should be bowing down to him in gratitude, as if he had just given me the best news of my life. I glared at him unenthusiastically and he soon got the hint.
He coughed. “Right, better get this show on the road.” He excused himself.
I felt the press of someone next to me. “What a wanker!”