The McCalister Legacy Read online

  ‘At the house. I brought a sleeping bag and other stuff—it’ll be all right.’

  ‘Berry, I don’t think that’s a great idea,’ Jess said quickly, all lightness gone. ‘I mean, you haven’t been inside yet, it could be trashed.’

  ‘Well, if that’s the case—I drove past a B&B, and the pub has rooms.’

  ‘Harlington has a B&B? I didn’t think the place was a tourist hotspot,’ Jess said with an incredulous lilt to her voice.

  ‘I guess you were wrong.’

  ‘So it seems. Anyway, let me know how you get on,’ Jess said. ‘Call me, even if it’s in the middle of the night.’

  ‘Thank you, but stop worrying. I’ll be fine,’ Berry said with a laugh.

  ‘All right—but you have to admit that I do it so well. I’ll talk to you later. Bye sis,’ Jess said.

  ‘Love you. I’ll ring you later,’ Berry said before she hung up and tucked the phone into her jeans. She glanced at the fence and the drive that led to the old farmhouse, and for an instant she was transported back to her tenth birthday. She could see the children running in the front yard and the colourful bunting her father had hung about, and could hear the sound of her mother’s voice. Berry squeezed her eyes shut. She wouldn’t let the memories in—she needed to be strong.

  Nathan Tarant drove his white ute down Lyrebird Road, along the shortcut from his place to town—that is, if you could call Harlington a town. It boasted only a servo, a tiny general store, a community hall and a small pool that sat adjacent to a public park, which wasn’t much bigger. Oh, and there was the pub—The Queen’s Arms, which was affectionately known as The Queenie. Everyone who lived in or around Harlington drove further afield for pretty much everything, from groceries to school and anything in between. Violet Falls was about thirteen kilometres away and Bendigo was a twenty-minute drive in the opposite direction. But today he was just going to pick up some bread and milk from the general store.

  Nate had spent all his twenty-four years at his family’s horse stud farm, Tarantale Downs. The Tarant family had been a fixture in Harlington since sometime back in the 1850s when an ancestor had the vision to see that the soft rolling hills could run something other than sheep. It had started small but with each generation grew in both size and reputation. Now, Tarantale Downs was one of the most respected horse studs not just in the area, but statewide.

  The dirt road was still wet in places from last night’s downpour. The rain had produced ruts where the rivulets of water cut their path, and the side of the road was now soft, a bog waiting to happen. As Nate drove, the ute seemed to hit every ditch and pothole on the way, splashing muddy water all over it. Nate frowned and wondered why the hell he’d bothered to wash it last week.

  In the distance he noticed a red car parked outside the old McCalister place. That was odd—no one ever came out here; too many dark memories, and some of the kids around here would say too many ghosts. A town never really got over something like that—most of a family being taken out in such a violent way. At least the kids had managed to survive.

  Nate eased his foot off the accelerator as he drew closer. A young woman wearing big sunglasses was leaning against the side of her car. Her almost black hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was staring ahead at the old house. He stopped the car when his was almost parallel with hers and wound down the window.

  ‘Hi,’ he said as he stuck his head out. ‘Are you okay? Lost?’

  The woman glanced over her shoulder before shaking her head. ‘No.’

  ‘All right, I just thought I’d ask. We don’t get many people stopping here,’ Nate said as he gestured towards the house.

  ‘Why’s that?’ the woman said as she pushed off the car and walked around the bonnet to face him, pulling off her sunglasses in the process.

  ‘It’s a sad place, most people stay away,’ he said slowly, distracted by her face. She had high cheekbones, but it was her pale grey eyes that made him pause.

  ‘Well, I’m not most people,’ the woman said as she hooked her sunglasses on the neck of her top. ‘I’m Berry McCalister.’

  Nate was stunned for a moment before shaking himself into action. He pulled on the hand brake and got out of the ute. No one had seen any of the McCalister kids since their uncle had bundled them into his flashy car all those years ago.

  ‘Hi, I’m Nate Tarant—my place is just down the road. So, I guess we’re neighbours.’ Nate winced at the words as they poured out. God, that was lame. If she was Berry McCalister, then she’d probably know who the Tarants were.

  ‘I guess we are.’ Berry gave him a smile. ‘Are you going to leave your car there … in the middle of the road?’

  He smiled. ‘It’s quiet around here and this road hardly gets used. Besides, if anyone turns up they can drive around it,’ he said with a shrug before sticking his hand out to her. ‘Listen, I’m not sure what sort of state the house is in. As far as I know, no one’s been in it for years but the town does keep an eye on it.’

  ‘I know that Mr Ford does,’ she said as she shook his hand.

  ‘Yep, him and several others. They come out here on a regular basis to make sure the house hasn’t been disturbed.’

  ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘We weren’t sure if you’d come back, but if you did, the town wanted to make sure that you had a house to come back to.’

  ‘That’s very kind. Would you pass on my thanks?’ Berry said.

  ‘Of course. So, are you back in Harlington for good?’ Nate asked as he relinquished her hand.

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘It’s the first time I’ve been back since … well, we’re just wondering what to do with the place.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘My brother and sister—Tom and Jessica,’ Berry said. ‘Look, I’d better get on with it.’

  ‘Right, well, I’ll leave you to it, then. And if you need anything, I’m just down the road,’ Nate said with a smile.

  Berry watched as Nate sauntered back to his ute. He gave her a final wave before driving off down the dirt road. A brief smile flitted across her lips as she remembered the tall, gangly teenager she had secretly idolised when she was a kid. Not so gangly now. She turned her attention back to the house, before Nate had made it to the crossroad at the end of the track.

  It was funny really, she’d spent last week assuring her family that she was quite capable of checking out Stone Gully Farm by herself and now that she was here … well, maybe she wasn’t so sure. Berry dragged in another deep breath. Nate was right, it was a sad place, and it was filled with ghosts—but they were her ghosts and she alone had to confront them.

  Berry eyed the overgrown path that led to the front door. A feeling of desolation had settled over the farm. Perhaps the weather added to the gloom—it was cold with a strong wind whipping through the bare branches of the trees in the front yard. The sky was grey with a sprinkling of rain. Like tears, Berry thought as she looked across the paddocks to the storm-filled clouds on the horizon.

  Annoyed with herself because maybe she wasn’t as strong as she thought she was, Berry yanked open the car door and grabbed her backpack. Oh, this is stupid, I’m being stupid, she told herself before she slung the bag over one shoulder and marched towards the house. She pushed open the old wire gate, which creaked and scraped against the broken cement paving. Beyond the row of trees at the fence line, the garden opened up to what used to be a spacious lawn, which she and Jess used to play on. Now it was knee high with weeds and blackberry bushes.

  Berry stepped up the one step to the verandah, which ran around two sides of the house. She blocked out the childhood memories that swarmed in her mind and focused on getting the damn key into the lock. After a moment or two jiggling the key, the lock finally clicked and Berry pushed open the door. The musty air hit her face as she stepped over the threshold into a dark corridor. Her hand went instinctively to the light switch and flicked it on—nothing. Berry frowned, she had organised for t
he electricity to be put back on but obviously there had been a delay.

  She grabbed her phone, switched on the flashlight and stepped inside. The open door cast a little light but it didn’t reach the end of the hall. But Berry didn’t need the light to find her way around, the floor plan of the house was burned into her memory. She turned to her right and opened the door into what used to be the lounge room. It was partially open plan with the dining area and kitchen located through the dated arch at the end of the room. She hesitated for a second as she saw some large white objects across the other side of the room. Holding up her phone, she saw that it was coversheets over pieces of furniture. Annoyed at her own skittishness, she marched over to the windows, drew back the heavy drapes and threw open one of the sash windows. The pale light flooded the large room and the cold breeze blew the staleness from the air.

  Berry walked over to the first dust cover and pulled it off, knowing full well what she would find. Beneath it was an old wine-coloured couch with carved wooden armrests and feet. The couch had been in the family for generations, patched and chipped and patched again over the years. Berry squeezed her eyes shut as the memory of her mother sitting on it bubbled up. That was the place her mum would read a bedtime story to her daughters every night. In winter they would cuddle up and listen to fairytales and watch the fire in the grate, and Berry would imagine the characters of the story in the flames.

  She walked deeper into the room, pulling off the dust covers in her wake. She needed to turn her back on the couch and all the memories it conjured. The last dust cover revealed an empty crystal cabinet with glass doors, which had belonged to her grandmother. Once again Berry closed her eyes, this time picturing the little treasures that used to be housed there—Granny’s favourite pieces, the hand-blown glass horse, her mother’s Royal Doulton teapot, and a handful of other knick-knacks. Until this moment, Berry had forgotten all about them … but, now, she wondered where the little glass horse was.

  Adjacent to the fireplace was a large bookcase, still filled with books, now covered in a thick layer of dust. Berry glanced at the spines as she walked past and headed to the kitchen, where she stopped to look at the pencil marks on the doorframe. She smiled to see her and Jess’s growth over the years; lower down was the first line for little Tommy. They were still as fresh as the last time she’d seen them. The room seemed smaller than she remembered, but the familiarity of it wrapped itself around her. Berry opened the blind and then the back door to let the light filter in, and somehow it made the old house a little more welcoming.

  She let out a breath as she made herself keep going towards the bedrooms on the other side of the house. Her footsteps echoed on the old wooden floor as she walked through the sunroom and to the bedroom she used to share with her sister.

  The door was open and the corner of the curtain had been pushed back, creating a shaft of light that cut through the darkness. Berry went over and pulled back the rest of the faded curtain. As she turned around, she saw that the room was empty—gone were the bunk beds, the dressing table, the posters that had covered the walls. It had always been such a bright and happy place, filled with toys, games and midnight whispers. But not anymore. Now, it felt empty, neglected, sad.

  After the tragedy, Berry had been back to the house only once, and that was under the watchful eye of her Uncle Dave. She and Jess had been allowed in this room, but the rest of the house was off limits. He’d given them each a suitcase and an instruction to fill it up with their favourite toys, clothes and books, then left them alone for a while as he went to pack a bag for Tommy.

  Jess and Berry had stood in the middle of the room looking at the empty cases. She wanted her mother, she needed to feel her arms around her but that was never going to happen again. Berry glanced at her sister and took comfort in the fact that at least they still had each other and little Tommy. She squeezed her sister’s hand for a moment, realising with a sudden sad weight that she now had new responsibilities for her siblings, before urging her to hurry.

  ‘Come on, Jess, don’t forget to pack Caramel,’ she had said, pointing to a scraggly and well-loved teddy bear that lay threadbare and forlorn on her sister’s bed. ‘You don’t want to leave him behind.’

  The first thing Berry had put in her case was the photo from last Christmas of her and Jess with their mum. It was the way she wanted to remember her mother—smiling at the camera and hugging her daughters to her. After that, she grabbed some clothes and her favourite fairytale book. The last two things she stuffed into her bulging bag were two soft toys—Minty Tat Cat and Rabbit. She’d had them ever since she could remember, and even if she was ten and almost grown up, there was no way she was going to leave them behind. Not long after, Uncle Dave had walked in with a sad smile and Tom in his arms, and ushered the girls back out of the house and into his waiting car.

  Berry looked around her childhood room as the memory settled in the back of her mind. God, she hadn’t thought of that in forever. She turned to the window and looked outside. The rain was getting heavier, dimming what light there was. The room seemed to close in on her a little and again she wondered if she should have put off the trip until Jess and Tom had been able to come. She walked over to the light switch and flicked it—still nothing.

  Berry felt … she wasn’t entirely sure, maybe a little skittish, a little melancholy, a little uneasy. The rain was beginning to drum on the old iron roof; if she had a bit of light and a cheery fire it might have been comforting, but instead she had a silent and chilly house that only served to give the bad memories the power to overwhelm the good.

  Berry quickly walked to the back door and locked it. She paused for a second as the silence of the house enveloped her. She was all of a sudden aware of the sound of her breath sucking in and blowing out against the backdrop of the rain. The air was still, as if she were holding her breath, and as the moments passed the more constricted her lungs began to feel as an ever-growing panic began to coil within her. She looked down the darkened hallway and took in a gulp of air, reminding herself there was nothing to be afraid of, but with each passing second the more rattled she became. She turned back to the door and double-checked that it was locked, and as she did, a shiver ran down Berry’s spine. She could almost hear her mother faintly calling out her name. She knew that the voice came from memory rather than reality, but as she stood in the silent, shadowed house, both worlds seemed to merge. ‘It’s just in my head, it’s just in my head,’ Berry muttered. She turned around and headed to the front door, keeping her eyes straight ahead, not daring to glance over her shoulder.

  To hell with this. She was going to stay at the B&B. She would come back when she had sunlight and electricity to frighten away the ghosts.

  Chapter Three

  Berry pulled up outside a quaint cottage just off what was regarded as the main street in Harlington. A charmingly painted sign next to the wrought-iron gate said Cumquat Cottage—Guests Welcome, and a welcome was just what Berry needed after the sad stillness of Stone Gully Farm.

  She grabbed her bag and headed towards the front gate. Light spilled out of the cottage windows and Berry caught the scent of smoke in the wet air. A shiver skittled up her back; she would be glad to get into the warmth and, she hoped, in front of an open fire.

  Berry walked up to the tiny porch and rang the bell. From within came the sound of a deep bark, and Berry braced herself at the sound of footsteps both human and canine coming towards the door. The door swung open to reveal a trim woman, perhaps in her late thirties, with a ready smile, and a large Irish Wolfhound sitting by her side.

  ‘Well, hello—and welcome to Cumquat Cottage.’

  Berry nodded and smiled. ‘Hi, I was wondering if you had a vacancy.’

  ‘Sure do—come on in. I’m Andrea, and this is Darby.’

  Berry bent down and let Darby smell her hand. His tail thumped against the polished wood floor and she gave him a pat. ‘He’s gorgeous,’ she said as he excitedly licked her hand.

/>   ‘Yes, he is and he knows it,’ she answered with a laugh. ‘So, are you just staying the night?’

  ‘Um … no, I think I’ll be here for a few days. That is, if you’re not booked out.’

  Andrea shook her blonde bob. ‘No, we don’t get many visitors this time of year. There’s a bit of a spike during school hols but generally it’s quiet right through autumn and winter.’

  ‘That’s a shame, it’s pretty here at this time of year.’

  ‘It is but it’s okay because I’m generally run off my feet during spring and summer. Come on through and I’ll show you the room, then you can see if it suits,’ Andrea said with a smile. ‘The room is self-contained with an ensuite. It’s attached to the main house but it has its own entrance. There are another couple of rooms, but I think this one is the best.’

  Berry followed Andrea and Darby down a hallway to a small extension that had been added off the right side of the house. The room wasn’t overly large but it had everything Berry needed for a short stay. There was a double bed, a small desk and a window seat overlooking a tiny courtyard and a cumquat tree.

  ‘The door over there leads through the courtyard and to the front gate,’ Andrea said.

  ‘It’s lovely. I’ll take it.’

  ‘Great, come on back through and we’ll fill in the book. And after that, I think you’ll need a cup of tea and a sit by the fire in the parlour.’

  ‘That sounds wonderful.’

  Back at the desk by the front door, as Berry finished signing in, Andrea pushed a large old-fashioned guestbook in front of her.

  ‘It’s not compulsory to write in it, just a bit of fun. When I envisioned the Cumquat, the idea of having a big leather-bound guestbook was always part of it. Maybe I’ve just watched too many old movies but I get a kick out of it.’

  Berry gave her a smile. ‘I’ll be happy to add my name,’ she said as she filled it out.