The #1 Bestsellers Collection 2011(162)

“Am I going too fast for you, dear? Oh look, you’ve left your shoes in the sand. The tide’ll take them if you’re not careful.” She bustled back and collected Holly’s shoes. “Come on with me and I’ll sit you down and get you a nice hot cuppa. Gee, this wind has some bite in it, doesn’t it?”

Without hesitation Nana hooked an arm around Holly’s expanded waist, helped her over the loose sand and towards the old but well-maintained house that squatted amongst the larger architecturally designed homes.

“They call it progress, dear.” Her grandmother sniffed and waved a disparaging hand towards the two-storied home to the side, leaving no doubt as to what she thought of it, and led Holly across the deck and into the cottage. “I call it a shame.”

“I can see why. It’s so beautiful here.”

“I’ve lived here over sixty years, was born and grew up in the area. I never thought I’d see the day when my neighbours would be city folk weekending at the beach. Ah well, one thing you can’t control and that’s time. When I’m gone, no doubt this place will be bowled and another place built—it’s not like I’ve any family to leave it to. Sit down there, dear. You’ll be comfortable on the firm chair.”

“Thanks.” Holly sank gratefully into a roomy and blessedly comfortable wicker chair. “You’re on your own?”

“Yes, just me left. That’s why you’ll have to indulge an old woman who doesn’t get a lot of company. I tend to talk far too much when I do.” She laughed and slapped her hips at the joke. “My husband, Ted, passed on five years ago. It’s been a bit lonely since then.” She gave a wink and tenderly patted Holly’s belly. “You won’t be alone for long. You look about fit to pop anyday.”

Holly smiled, trying not to dwell on another loss—the grandfather she’d never know. “I’m supposed to be another three weeks yet.”

“You’ll be early, you mark my words. Have you thought of any names yet?” Nana filled the kettle and put it on to boil, before clattering about in a cupboard and getting cups and spooning tealeaves into a pot.

“No, I haven’t.” She hadn’t let herself. She didn’t dare to.

“Don’t worry. You’ll think of something perfect when the time is right. Now, my Giselle, she was a determined one. So set in her thoughts. Nothing could sway her. She always said that if she had a little girl she’d name her Holly.” Queenie sighed sadly. “She died twenty-four years ago this coming Christmas and I still don’t know what we did wrong there.”

“Wrong? Why?” Ice traced a nervous finger down Holly’s spine.

“We were older parents. She came as a late bonus in our marriage, and as a result we probably overindulged her. At least Ted said I did. He put his foot down when she started to hang out with a young larrikin from further up the coast. Nice family, shame about the boy. Mind you, he settled down some in later years. Anyway, Ted made it quite clear that he disapproved of young Matt and forbade her from seeing him again. One night, soon after, she ran away from home. She was just shy of her fifteenth birthday. We did our best to locate her, but the police said some kids simply don’t want to be found. We never did find out what drove her away in the end. It broke my Ted’s heart. He was never the same.”

Holly felt faint and forced herself to drag much-needed air into her lungs. Her voice shaking, she replied. “Maybe I know.”

“You know? Why would you know, dear?” Nana gave Holly a puzzled smile before turning back to the whistling kettle and filling the teapot with hot water.

“I think I know why she ran away.” Holly gripped the cane arms of her chair so hard she thought she’d snap them into matchsticks. “I’m Holly.”

“That’s nice, dear. Born at Christmas were you?” Slowly realization dawned on the older woman’s face, and shock replaced her friendly smile. Her skin paled, driving the lifetime of sunshine from her weathered visage, and her eyes rounded in disbelief.

She should have been more careful, Holly thought, more considerate of the older woman’s feelings. But she’d waited so damn long that suddenly even another second was forever.

Queenie lowered herself carefully into a chair opposite Holly. She opened, then closed, her mouth a few times before one word shuddered past her thin lips. “H-Holly?”

“Yes.” Holly’s voice was barely a whisper as it fought past the tears that constricted her throat. “I think Giselle was my mother.”

Nana clapped her fingers to her mouth in a futile attempt to stifle the moan that escaped. “A baby? She had a baby? That’s why she ran away?” Tears began to track down her wrinkled cheeks. “But how did she cope? What did she do? Oh mercy, why didn’t she tell us?”