From her first summer in Kooramook CC had loved all her cousins dearly, but it was Ollie who’d been the most inclusive, inviting her to join in most activities. The summer she was fourteen she’d crushed on him. If he’d noticed—and he would have been blind not to—he’d only ever behaved like a fun but responsible big brother and, unlike Felix, had never teased her about it.

  Thankfully, her crush had quickly transferred onto Felix’s schoolfriend Dylan, who’d always spent a week at the shack. This hadn’t helped things with Felix, who was the same age as her and from day one had viewed her as competition and an adversary to be defeated. Now, years later, despite Felix no longer fearing CC would usurp his place in the family, the competitiveness between them still shone in any game. So much so that Ollie always insisted they be on the same team. “Be a force for good not evil,” he’d say, although Lily and James complained that together CC and Felix were unbeatable.

  Ollie squinted, checking out the waves. “I better head out so I’m back in time for the kids’ breakfast. I promised Paige a sleep-in.”

  “Take your time,” CC said. “I’m happy to get brekky started.”

  “You sure?”

  “Totes. Besides, no one ever says no to my Nutella pancakes.”

  He crooked a brow. “Want to risk something on that?”

  It was the standard Friend dare and she chose the easiest option. “Absolutely. Five bucks to prove you wrong.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Nah, you know the rules. It needs to be something other than money.”

  “A Mars bar.”

  “Doctor Cilento, the last of the big spenders.”

  “Hey, have you seen my HECs debt?”

  She gave him a gentle shove towards the water before running to the beach steps—her beach steps—with excitement fizzing through her. As soon as she reached the house, the urge to tell her mother the monumental news had her reaching for her phone and checking the reception. Two bars! This was a miracle as the shack was in a hollow and rarely connected to the Kooramook tower. Hoping it would hold, she made the call.

  “CC?” Anji’s agitation rushed down the phone. “What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

  The tension clawed at CC and she blew out a breath. “Mum, chill! Why do you always think something’s wrong?”

  “Because it’s seven o’clock in the morning! Because you never call when you’re at the shack.”

  CC tried not to hear criticism and failed. “Only because the reception’s hit and miss down here and it might fall out at any moment.”

  “I know. And you’re always busy catching up and having fun, which is the point. So why are you calling now?’ her mother said reasonably.

  The balloon of chagrin deflated. “Okay, fair call. Sorry, Mum. I’m calling because I’ve got great news.”

  “You asked them about living there during your Portland rotation?”

  In all the excitement, CC had forgotten about that. “No, better! Bert’s left me one fifth of the shack!”

  “What?” Now her mother sounded as dumbfounded as CC had been the night before. “How? He’s been dead for years.”

  “It’s some complicated will thing. Until Leo died, Bert’s estate couldn’t be fully settled, but he’s left the shack to the five of us! I hardly slept last night trying to process it. It’s so unexpected that I keep pinching myself, but at the same time it’s so perfect, because the cuzzies are—” She stopped herself from saying “the siblings I never had’ for fear of upsetting her mother. “They’re as excited as I am.”

  There was silence on the line.

  “Mum?”

  “Sorry, darling. I’m just taking it all in. That’s wonderful news. I know how much you adore it down there.”

  “I do, and now I don’t have to wait to be invited. I can come whenever I like, so we can plan a visit.”

  “We?” Her mother sounded tentative.

  “Yes, we! You and me. We can have a mother and daughter weekend.”

  “That sounds … What a lovely idea. But can it really just be the two of us? The shack always sounds like a passing parade of Friends.”

  CC laughed. “In all senses of the word.” She heard the low rumble of voices behind closed doors. “Sorry, Mum, I’m on breakfast duty so gotta go. Love you, talk soon.”

  CC dived through the shower, whipped up some pancake batter and set Rosa’s caffettiera bubbling on the stove. It surprised her that none of the cousins had bought a coffee machine; then again, supporting the local Making the Drop cafe so it stayed open was a new tradition. Kooramook didn’t get the tourist numbers like Lorne did, and even there business owners struggled to stay solvent out of season.

  Felix emerged from a bedroom wearing an old school hoodie and tartan pyjama pants. “Coffee smells great, but it makes Bronte barf. Got any ginger tea?’

  CC opened cupboards. “Peppermint any good?”

  “Peppermint’s fine,” Bronte said, sliding onto a stool next to Felix. “Any dry biscuits?”

  CC passed Bronte the peppermint tea and the biscuit barrel. “I’m so excited this inheritance news means I’ll be down here making sandcastles and memories with your little one.”

  “We’re looking forward to that too. It’s just …” Felix exchanged a look with Bronte.

  “What?” CC asked.

  “We love it down here, but as much as we love the shack and the story of Bert building it piece by piece, it’s sixty years old and showing its age.” Felix gesticulated wildly in a manner reminiscent of Rosa. “The downpipes are corroded, the mice have way too many entry points, and have you been here in winter?”

  “The wind whips through every crack, making the place uninhabitable,” Bronte said. “These days caravans are more luxurious.”

  Felix looked straight at CC. “I don’t know about you, but I’m totally over sharing a room and fighting for use of the bathroom.”

  CC laughed. “I thought you blokes had the lemon tree.” When Felix didn’t crack a smile she said, “But isn’t it all part of the fun?”

  “For the kids maybe, but we’re thirty and Ollie snores like a freight train. Bronte and I reckon it’s time for a purpose-built holiday house that meets all our needs.”

  CC’s skin itched with surprise and an ache pulsed deep inside her. “Are you saying pull down the shack?”

  Felix’s eyes lit up. “Exactly. I’ve designed enough houses for other people to know what works and what⁠—”

  “Morning.” James marched into the kitchen, car fob key in hand. “Gretel needs coffee so I’m doing a cafe run. Who wants what?”

  CC pointed to the stove. “There’s coffee in the pot.”

  James eyed it with suspicion. “Think we’ll stick to barista made.”

  “We could get a coffee machine,” Felix said. “Then you could make your double shot extra hot soy latte here.”

  “We could.” James’s agreement lacked enthusiasm. “There are a lot of things we could do. We need to talk⁠—”

  “Is that coffee? Thank God!” A bleary-eyed, wild-haired Lily staggered into the kitchen looking like she’d barely slept.

  CC poured her a coffee and set about making a fresh brew.

  “Drank too much last night, did we?” James said dryly.

  Lily threw him a cold stare. “I drank less than you. You know I’ve always struggled with sleep.”

  “Have you?” James sounded genuinely surprised.

  “Yes,” Lily said indignantly. “And it’s taken years to work out why.”

  “Sleep apnoea?” CC said, thinking about Lily’s snoring.

  Lily shook her head. “ADHD.”

  James scoffed and Felix rolled his eyes. CC appreciated that neither brother had said “here we go”.

  She poured Lily a glass of water, knowing that if she did have ADHD it would be more beneficial in helping her wake up than an espresso. But mostly she did it so she could school her face into a neutral expression. The current trend of women self-diagnosing with ADHD based on Instagram and TikTok posts was worrying. Unfortunately, Lily was a prime candidate to believe the spiel.

  CC adored Lily, and as a child had initially thought she was the older sister she’d never had. However, it hadn’t taken long to realise that in many ways she was wiser than Lily and it had been CC who put the brakes on activities that risked limbs, if not life. Lily was a very different personality from her brothers. Unlike James and Felix, she hadn’t chosen a career carving out a dedicated path and reaping financial rewards along the way. Nor had she done a trade like Ollie. She’d started three different degrees and finished none. After uni, she’d flitted between a variety of jobs—cafe cook, front of house greeter, disability support worker, and a very short-lived stint in a call centre. Leo and Julia had valued money and prestige, so they’d struggled with Lily’s lack of ambition and the low-paying jobs that turned housing from stable to unstable in one pay period. They’d used their networks to find “more suitable’—their words—jobs for her, trying unsuccessfully to mould Lily into a “corporate lackey”—Lily’s words. But Lily had been miserable. She was far more suited to wearing boho than Melbourne black, and she totally rocked a crocheted vest.

  CC knew there had been a period a year earlier when Lily had turned in on herself and been very low. She had moved to the shack and worked cleaning holiday rentals and troubleshooting for absent Airbnb hosts as well as making soaps and hand creams, which she sold at various markets in the district. She’d joined the Food Rescue program, donating Rosa and Bert’s olives, apples, peaches, nectarines and mulberries, and after two months had declared the “passive halotherapy’ of living in Kooramook to be regenerative. CC thought the lifestyle suited her and had hoped Lily would move permanently, but eight months later she’d abruptly returned to Melbourne.

  “When did you get your official ADHD diagnosis?” CC asked, almost pushing the glass of water into Lily’s free hand.

  “What do you mean by official?”

  “A report that came out of your testing for ADHD,” CC clarified.

  “Testing?” A confused look crossed Lily’s face. “I had a telehealth appointment with a psychiatrist who’s an ADHD expert. I told him I’ve always had trouble concentrating, how I’m always losing my phone, forgetting appointments and I struggle to focus. He agreed that I had ADHD and said my difficult year probably wasn’t anxiety and depression like my GP said, but ADHD. He prescribed Ritalin.”

  CC’s gut churned at such a fast diagnosis given over a video call, and yet Lily did have some trademark ADHD symptoms. “Have you noticed any difference since you started taking the meds?”

  Lily downed the water, then picked up the coffee pot despite it not having finished brewing. “It’s only been a few days but I feel fantastic!”

  CC couldn’t quite match the thrashing in bed and the shadows under Lily’s eyes with her statement. But she wasn’t Lily’s doctor so all she could do was suggest she keep her follow-up appointment. Before she could say as much, the children rushed into the kitchen with cries of “I’m starving!” and “Can we have bacon?”

  Bronte stood quickly and rushed out of the room. Felix called after her, “I’ll bring you toast.”

  Lily asked James for a half-decaf, half-regular extra hot coffee with coconut milk, then lost herself in her phone.

  Ollie walked into the kitchen, his hair still damp from the outside shower. Like Felix, he was wearing shack-chic—a pair of very faded shorts and an old Silverchair T-shirt with a frayed collar. James asked him if he wanted a coffee.

  “No, thanks, Jimmy-boy. I’ll stick with the caffettiera.”

  James grunted and walked out the back door.

  “Nutella pancakes, Maddi?” CC asked, flipping two onto a plate.

  “No way! They’re so not healthy!” Maddi stomped to the fruit bowl, grabbed a banana and left the room.

  “I don’t eat pancakes,” Blake said. “Are there Froot Loops?”

  Ollie laughed. “CC, I think you owe me a Mars bar.”

  Archie and his siblings chanted, “Pancakes! Pancakes! We want pancakes!”

  Ollie clapped his hands once, the sound reverberating like a shot. “Quiet, you lot. And sit, or it’ll be a school morning breakfast.’ Silence ensued and he flicked on the stove. “Blake, I’ll make you French toast, and there’s pancakes and bacon for everyone else after you’ve eaten some fruit. Then you can take the mums their breakfasts, and after that the tide will be low enough to rock-pool ramble. Then after lunch we’ll⁠—”

  “Factor in a family meeting this afternoon,” Felix said, buttering toast. “James wants one.”

  Had James said that? CC tried to remember exactly who had said what during the conversation bingo.

  Ollie’s smiling mouth flattened. “It’s a waste of good weather and a bit rough on the kids.”

  “Surely they can watch a movie or play a game for half an hour,” Felix said.

  Ollie snorted. “Says the bloke with no kids.”

  “Yet,” Felix ground out.

  “Half an hour?” Lily laughed. “This is James we’re talking about. It’ll take him that long to outline the agenda.” She stuck a spoon in the Nutella jar then shoved it in her mouth.

  “Are you sure James wanted a meeting this weekend?” CC asked Felix. “Last night he said the shack was a business-free zone.”

  The skin around Felix’s eyes tightened. “Like Ollie said last night, we’re all here so it makes sense to discuss things.”

  “Wath thort of things?” Lily asked around the lump of Nutella.

  Felix sighed in a way that said “I love you dearly but” … “Everything to do with the shack.”

  Lily swallowed. “We’ve never done it before.”

  “It was never ours before,” Felix said, an edge to his voice. “Now that it is, we need to consider things like the rates and⁠—”

  “Oh, chillax,” Lily said airily. “James will look after all that.”

  CC recognised the flush rising up Felix’s neck and pinking his jaw. She’d seen it many times before—the first being when they were seven and she’d beaten him at Skip-Bo. It always heralded an explosion that left few people standing.

  She vaulted into peacemaker mode. “A meeting’s a good idea, but I think James has a point about keeping the shack a business-free zone. Why don’t we preserve our weekend and plan for a dedicated Zoom meeting one night soon?”

  Ollie squeezed CC’s shoulder. “Great idea. Lily, you right to handle that?”

  Lily stuck out her tongue at the implication that she was technophobic. “Have phone, can Zoom.”

  “Felix?” CC asked.

  But he’d stalked out of the kitchen holding a plate of toast.

  Chapter Three

  After dinner and a rousing game of Pictionary—Felix, CC, Maddi and Leyton blitzed it, leaving scorched earth in their wake—Ollie offered to take anyone who wanted to go fishing out in Bert’s old Streaker early in the morning.

  Gretel sounded horrified when Blake expressed interest. “Isn’t it forty years old? Are you sure it’s seaworthy?”

  “Of course it is,” Paige said. “Ollie takes our kids out in it all the time.”

  “It’s registered and I give it a complete overhaul every year,” Ollie said patiently. “I wouldn’t risk my life or anyone else’s. I’ve got comms, everyone wears a PFD and I never go out in rough weather.”

  “Ollie’s a good sailor,” James said. “I have no problem with Blake going if he really wants to bait hooks.”

  Blake’s face scrunched in distaste. “Yuck. No thanks.”

  The parents, and soon-to-be parents, drifted off to bed, blaming flagging early on a day of sun and surf. By ten the house was quiet and CC was doing a final wipe-down of the kitchen when Lily appeared wearing an off-the-shoulder Indian print maxi dress, the green hues making her eyes sparkle. In a classic case of random collision of genetic material, Lily and Ollie had inherited Bert’s green eyes; otherwise the southern Italian genes dominated, as they had with James and Leo. It was only Felix who shared his mother’s hazel eyes, pale skin and fair hair.

  “Let’s go,” Lily said.

  As familiar as the statement was, it didn’t hint at the destination. “Go where?”

  “It’s Saturday night. Where do you think?”

  CC tried not to sigh. She was in holiday mode and as such hadn’t bothered to blow-dry her hair after her pre-dinner surf. “I’m hardly pub ready.”

  Lily laughed. “Of course you are.”

  “I’m in happy pants!”

  “Exactly.” Lily removed the sponge from CC’s hand, then thrust her handbag at her. “Put on some lippy and you’re good to go.”

  Experience had taught CC that attempting to refuse Lily only delayed the inevitable. She pulled her wayward hair up in a knot, spritzed some perfume, swiped on cherry red lipstick and slid her feet into her Birkies.

  Lily gave her the full top-to-toe sweep before pushing CC’s old linen shirt off one shoulder. “Now you’re vibing it.”

  CC laughed. “Yeah, right. I had more luck in the dunes as a teenager than I’ve ever had at the pub.”

  “That’s because you overthink everything.”

  Did she? CC tried shaking off the thought, putting it down to another unsubstantiated “Lily-ism”, but as they walked the eight hundred metres to the pub, it refused to budge.

  It was a still, clear night and the moon lit their way as they strolled to the soundtrack of the chirrups and squeaks of ring-tailed possums and other nocturnal animals. Lily suddenly squealed in delight and ran off the road to squat at the base of an old tree.

  CC was used to this sort of thing—Lily had eagle eyes for the gold of roadside junk. She was always bringing things back to the shack; her best finds to date were a six-pack of unopened beer cans, a sprocket set she’d gifted to Ollie and the complete set of Penguin Classics paperbacks.

  “What have you found this time?” CC asked.

  “Come and look.”

  CC picked her way through the long grass until she was peering over Lily’s shoulder. A bright green shimmering light, of almost radioactive intensity, lit up the old tree stump in a spectacular display of bioluminescence.

 

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