Three days later, I was changing bed linen at the B&B I'd called home since I'd arrived in Marysville. Mrs Waters strode past with her arms filled with fresh tomatoes from the garden. "That looks wonderful, Em. Can you help me make up the room next to yours, please?"
I smoothed the pretty green doona cover, then followed my boss down the hall. "Sure. Are we full tonight? We never normally use that room."
Mrs Waters dropped the tomatoes on the kitchen bench, the round red fruit rolling in every direction. "Stay put, you lot. No, we're not full."
She was off again, and I trailed her to the massive walk-in linen cupboard outside my room. I held out my arms as she piled them full of sheets, pillows and blankets. "Then, why are we using the blue room?"
She pushed open the door opposite mine. Seldom used and the tinniest of all the rooms in the guest house, its topaz walls made it seem like a small sparkly cave. The view was amazing though, the single bed facing out over the rolling green of Mrs Waters' lawn and away to the mountains.
Plucking a sheet from my pile, she said, "Because, we're taking on board another permanent guest."
"What? Who?" I'd been at the B&B for over three years and I'd never known anyone to stay more than a weekend other than me, besides the endless stream of stray cats and dogs Mrs Waters adopted on a weekly basis.
"North," she said simply, throwing the sheet high and letting it float softly to the bed.
"North? The guy I found on the road?" My voice was already high and critical. "Why is he coming here?"
"I've been checking in on him since you told me the story," she explained. "Dr Mike said he's back up on his feet again and they're releasing him this afternoon."
"So, send him home."
"They can't. He still can't remember who he is and he wasn't carrying ID. The police say no one matching his description has been reported missing. The poor darling, all alone. I offered him a place here until he works something out."
Something was brewing in my chest, and I realised with horror that I was feeling excited about seeing him again. Shoving the girlish feeling away, I said, "Well, that's just great. He could be a psycho, or a rapist, and you're just inviting him in here."
Ignoring my taunt, she fluffed a pillow. "Do you know what people said to me when they found out you were living here?"
"No."
"They warned me that you were probably a no-good runaway; a drifter. You'd probably raid my jewellery box in the middle of the night and steal my car to make a getaway."
"They could have been right."
"They are normally scared and stupid and closed minded." She threw the pillow on the egg-shell blue covers. "North is my guest as much as you are, and you will treat him as you would any other paying member of this establishment."
Petulant, I retorted, "Oh yeah? How will he pay you? In beard hair?"
"I stopped by the clinic yesterday; North will help around here, just as you do, while he regains his strength." She leaned against the door frame, admiring the little room. "Lovely. He'll be happy here."
"You can't take in every one of us strays, you know."
"I know nothing of the sort."
Frustrated, I rolled my eyes and tried to leave. "You're a mad old lady. I'm going to start dinner."
"He has rather lovely eyes, don't you think?" Mrs Waters mused, not acknowledging my insult. "I feel like he's awfully familiar. Like perhaps I've seen him somewhere before. That's usually what people say about you, isn't it, dear?"
Fear clanged in my heart, a deep peal that made me quail inside. "I just have one of those faces. Maybe North is the same." I swept out. "Although, it's hard to tell anything with all that disgusting fur all over his face."
"I happen to think beards are rather dapper," she called after me.
Snorting, I reached the kitchen and began pulling ingredients out for the evening meal. With the three couples in the house, plus a single photographer staying with us while he catalogued regrowth after the fires, North, Mrs Waters and me, I'd be cooking for ten officially, but knowing the generous heart of the landlady, there were bound to be a few extras at the table.
When her sprawling country manor burned to the ground in the Black Saturday fires, a lesser woman would have taken the insurance cheque and moved on. Not Mrs Waters. Not only did she have an architect rebuild her home brick for brick, she opened her doors to the public as a luxury B&B to help boost the local tourism.
During my first few months staying at the guest house, there were more empty rooms than full. But with the town regenerating and tourists beginning to flow again, we were getting busy, even on weekdays.
We offered dinner as an optional extra, but most people ate with us. There weren't really many choices for eating out in our little town. We always made two choices for the evening meal; something vegetarian and something meaty. Plus, Mrs Waters made a lavish cheesecake most days to serve for dessert.
I put the stroganoff into the oven for a slow cook and started on the feta and zucchini risotto. I was a hopeless cook when I'd first arrived, but under Mrs W's guidance, I'd improved to the point where people were happily paying to eat my food.
As I sliced the homegrown veggies, a voice startled me. "Emily."
North stood at the door, a different man than the emaciated hobo I'd stuffed into my car only a few days ago. He was still hairy, but his beard and shaggy mop had been trimmed. With the crusted dirt washed away, I could see his hair was lighter than I'd thought, a shiny tan, and his skin glowed with returning health.
In a cheap cotton tee, his gaunt frame was still evident. Someone must have loaned him jeans, which were pinned to his bony hips by a belt on the tightest loop.
Even so, there was something about his presence that made my skin crawl with heat. "North. Hello, again."
"Can I help you with anything?" He waved a hand around the kitchen, cluttered with food scraps and used dishes.
"I normally clean up when I'm finished," I explained, feeling awkward.
"I'll start now, then." He began loading the dishwasher as I kept chopping. Silence grew between us in the sunny kitchen, the wooden benches throwing the light around the room.
I broke first. "How are you feeling?"
"Much better. I'm still pretty weak, but Dr Mike said it'll fade as long as I keep gaining weight."
"That should be easy here." I threw three cups of Arborio rice into a pot and covered it with stock. "We eat dessert most nights, and Mrs Waters insists on bacon gracing every breakfast buffet."
"She's lovely," said North, flinching a little as he bent to pick up a crispy onion skin from the floor. "Are you two related?"
"Nope. I'm a stray, just like you."
"A stray? I suppose I am..."
His face clouded and he leaned heavily on the bench, as if standing was too much.
"Here, sit down." I pulled out a chair from the kitchen table for him. He sagged gratefully into it, and I turned to the pantry, hunting for a snack. Coming up with a Tupperware container of homemade cookies, I slid it across to him. "Melting Moments."
He lifted a cream coloured biscuit to his lips. "Wow. These are great."
"They're about 50% butter," I explained. "The other 50% is sugar."
"I used to love these as a kid."
"You remember your childhood?" I sat opposite him, studying this odd man. I would have given anything to forget my childhood. Perhaps his curse was a blessing too.
He shrugged. "I remember some things. I know that I grew up in Melbourne, but I couldn't tell you where. I prefer blondes over brunettes. And I like to laugh; I've seen every Jim Carey film known to man. I swear, I could recite Ace Ventura 2 line for line, but I can't tell you my home address."
"Alrighty then," I quipped.
He grinned. "You do have a sense of humour."
The comment stung, like a tiny split in my skin. "What the hell does that mean?"
"Nothing, I'm sorry," he waved me down, face stricken. "I just... Dr Mike and Marie talked about you, and I think... they just don't understand you, that's all."
"They think I'm a robot, right?" I pushed away from the table and reached for the dish cloth, rubbing at a splodge on the side of the fridge. "Because I don't giggle or gossip or drop babies like every other young woman in town." I loved Marysville, and the town had sheltered me, but there was always a wall of misunderstanding between us. How could I ever explain who I was and what I was hiding from without destroying the life I'd found there?
"Hey, it's okay." North walked over and placed his ham-sized hand on my shoulder. "So, you're not a smiley person. I am." He beamed at me in proof. "I'll do the smiling for both of us."
His fingers burned though my light shirt, searing my skin, the nerve endings singing happily. For a moment, I almost let myself enjoy the feeling, wanting nothing more than to lean back into his arms.
Voices from down the hall shook me out of the melting moment. I pulled away. "Don't worry about doing anything for me," I said. "My life is just fine."
"Oh, yes," said Mrs Waters, entering the room. "Just fine. The racy lingerie at the bottom of my drawer gets out more than you do, Emily. North, it's good to see you." She wrapped the slender man in a cuddle, her voluptuous curves balancing out his painful thinness.
"Thanks again, Mrs W. You're a life saver. And, might I add, beautiful women like yourself should wear lingerie as often as possible." He bantered easily with her, obviously comfortable around people.
"Oh! Be off with you, young man." She batted him on the arm, clearly delighted. "Now, North, I've set you up in the Blue room, and I don't want you to do anything but rest for a few days. Will you join us for dinner?"
"Of course! Why wouldn't I?"
Mrs Waters eyed me superciliously. "Not everyone feels the needs to grace the table with their presence."
"And I'm out." I stalked from the kitchen, leaving my new housemate to flirt with our elderly saviour.
I really did love Mrs Waters, and I knew my absence at dinner was a sore spot with her. I normally followed every one of her small requests, but sharing meals with loved-up couples who might recognise me at any moment? That wasn't a possibility.
I retreated to my room to read for a few hours before dinner, knowing that books were the only place I could truly escape my twisted thoughts and snarled past.
***
The after-party is buzzing. The record label has hired the top floor of the Eureka tower, and the sprawling, luxurious penthouse is crammed full of beautiful people. Everywhere I look, there are soap stars flirting with recording executives, rock legends leering over debutants, reporters fishing for gossip.
There's booze, sex and every kind of drug on offer. I'd stumbled into a bedroom, searching for my fiancé, finding only two models making out while a TV host jerked off watching them, his nose decorated in white.
Now, I'm standing on the balcony with my producer, the man lauding my praises loudly to the crowd. My two Aria statues are heavy in my arm, like twin weights, drawing my attention endlessly to the fact Darren's band was completely overlooked at the awards.
"...And now, with the fact she's cracked the US charts and been nominated for three Grammy's, Delia Chess is the hottest name in Aussie music! So, cheers to Duchess tonight on all her success, and so much more to come!" The sweaty round man toasts my flute with his scotch glass, the brassy liquid sloshing out onto my leather mini-dress.
Shyly, I raise my glass to the cheering swarm in front of me. Even with the extra seven inches my towering spiked stilettos give me, I still feel tiny and unworthy of all the attention.
But as people crowd forward, gushing adoration and appreciation, the tinniest bloom of hope unfurls in my chest. These people are my family. I'm finally loved. I'm finally home.
I allow myself a small smile, and people around me gasp at the rare event.
It all ends when a slurring voice shouts at me across the room.
"All hail the fuckin' almighty Duchess!" Darren is staring at me with blatant hatred. I don't understand; he's my fiancé. We are going to be married and Marie Claire is shooting the wedding and people are begging me to wear their gowns, use their hotels, and honeymoon at their resorts. Why is he looking at me like I've killed his dreams?
Because I have. I won and he didn't. I knew he'd be livid, but I thought he'd take it out on me behind the closed doors of our apartment. Not here.
"Hey, baby," I say, as he crosses to me. The room has fallen silent, except for clicking cameras and the bleep of phones recording.
Darren is oblivious. His pupils are wide, turning his eyes black with crazy hatred. "Don't 'baby' me, whore. You wanna take what's mine? I'll give you what's mine, right now."
***
Gasping, I woke, coated in sweat, drool drying on my chin.
"Emily? Are you okay?" North's head appeared around the side of my open door.
Disoriented, I wiped at the tears and saliva on my face. "Fine. Just... just a bad dream."
"I heard you cry out." His silvery eyes were tilted in concern. "Do you want some water or anything?"
"No. Thank you. I must have just been hot. My fault for taking a nap with the blinds open." Feebly, I indicated the blazing late afternoon sun, falling right over my bed.
He wasn't buying it, but smiled anyway, his slender face crinkling under the voluminous beard. "Okay, well, Mrs W said to tell you that dinner is ready to serve."
"I'll be right there." I jumped up and pushed past him, ignoring the look of worry he bore. Don't worry about me, Fancy-pants. I'm not the one without memories.
I'm the girl who can't escape from hers.
In the kitchen, I scraped my hair back into a quick ponytail, and loaded up with plates. Heading into the dining room, I set my face into a neutral expression, tilting my chin down so I didn't draw extra attention.
The long table was covered with candles and wine. Mrs Waters sat at the head, her long grey hair flowing down her shoulders like a silver wave, as she blatantly disregarded the societal norm of old ladies and short hair. She held court over her guests as they drank and chatted.
"Ah! My darling Emily!" Mrs Waters nudged the photographer on her right. "Didn't I tell you, Michael? She's quite stunning, isn't she?"
The poor man stammered. "Oh... y-yes, she's lovely."
Aware that the older woman was on a new quest to set me up, I worked as fast as I could to off-load the food around the table. She did it about every three months or so, mostly inspired by any unfortunate single person to stop by our abode. She'd even made an attempt to push a sweet Queensland lesbian on me, until mortified, I'd informed them both of my heterosexuality.
Mrs Waters continued, drawling, "She's clever and kind and hardworking as well. You'd think that some young man would just sweep in and scoop her up!"
North entered the room, bellowing with laughter while taking a seat next to the hostess. "Emily's not a fish in a pet store tank, Mrs W! Now, what were you telling me about the big gum tree at the back of the property?"
"Oh! That's right, Michael, you simply must take a photo of it. The tree was burnt to a crisp in the fires, but there's a second tree sprouting from the hollow trunk of the first..."
She was off. As I set a final dish in front of North, I gave him a grateful look, trying to convey so much with a quick flicker of my lids.
Grinning, he winked at me before turning to engage the older couple on his right in conversation.
Silently slipping from the room, I paused at the door, glancing back to admire North's easy manner and sunny attitude. He might not have had any idea who he was or where he came from, but he was living in the moment, at peace and totally engaged with those around him.
I stared at his strong chin, the one part of his body not ravaged by his ordeal, and wondered what it would be like to stroke the coarse beard. When he looked up and saw me watching, I fled, blushing and unsure why.
In the kitchen, I ate my small plate at the wooden table alone, listening to everyone converse and laugh, listening for North's guffaw, wondering how the addition of someone so vibrant and welcoming could cause me to feel even lonelier.
Vote if you've ever felt lonely in the company of others. I know I have...