by C J Brown
CHAPTER 10
Wednesday July 3rd
Mia hesitated at the bookshop door.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come in with you, Nan? I don’t mind.”
“I’m fine. It’s just for old times’ sake… you know. I don’t think I’ll be very long.”
“I’ll just be across at the beach. Take your time.” Mia crossed the road and jogged through the park. She found a spot on a low stone wall and watched the people on the beach.
“Hello,” called Tess as she entered the old book shop. “Is anybody here?”
“Hello yourself,” came a voice from somewhere among the shelves and packing cases.
The shop was dimly lit and smelled just as one might imagine a room full of old books might smell – dusty, a bit mouldy. The damp sea air wouldn’t help, thought Tess.
A large, round figure emerged from the rear of the store. A balding man, in his sixties, guessed Tess. His glasses sat low on his nose.
“A customer!” he smiled. Tess detected a slight Scottish accent. “A reprieve, albeit brief, from the unpredictable vicissitudes of life and the capricious vagaries of commerce. Welcome!”
“Thank you. I see you’re closing down. Business no good I suppose.”
“No point pretending. Business is terrible. I don’t think people read off paper anymore. It’s all this e-book business. Downloadable books! Good grief, my poor old dad would turn in his grave. Nobody wants the real thing. It’s all virtual. Virtual books, virtual games, virtual this, virtual that. And even if kids do read books these days it’s likely to be a story about some virtual hero saving the virtual inhabitants of some virtual world. I’m fed up, virtually.” He stopped. His eyes twinkled. “As a matter of fact, how do I know you’re real? You could be a virtual person, a holograph or something.”
“Goodness, have you thought of switching to decaf? Well, for one thing, a holograph wouldn’t need to use your toilet. Do you mind?” Tess was keen to get upstairs and look around their old apartment.
“For customers only, sorry.”
“Well, how about I promise to buy something.”
“Well in that case, top of the stairs, first door on the right.”
“Yes, I know.” Tess noticed his puzzled expression. “I used live here.”
The bookseller looked a Tess. “Used to live here, did you? I thought you looked a bit familiar. Let me think…”
“Well, you think and I’ll just pop upstairs.” Tess hurried past leaving the store owner scratching his shiny head as if trying to physically dig deep into some well-buried memories.
Two cats sleeping on the staircase woke with a fright and scurried past her. Tess took a deep breath as she stood at the door to what used to be her bedroom. Every bit of wall was hidden by bookshelves and nearly every bit of shelf was hidden by books. A dozen empty cardboard cartons sat in the centre of the room. To her surprise, there under the window was her old writing desk and chair. Suddenly she felt overwhelmed. The smell, the familiarity, the memories all seemed to ripple over her at once. She steadied herself and walked over to the chair. Facing the window, she took a deep breath of fresh air. Tess ran her hands over the smooth redwood desktop. It was scored with now-unreadable imprints from years of pens pushing hard on paper. She closed her eyes.
December 15th, 1969
My Darling Fudge,
I was so happy to receive your letter and to hear how you are settling in to army life. Kapooka, such a strange and funny name.
I really am sorry to have got so emotional the day you left. I wanted to be strong to make it easier for you. It didn’t quite work out as I planned. It took all my restraint to stop myself running after the bus.
Shorty said to tell you he’s taking good care of your car. And he is too. It’s sparkling. He also gave me some bad news. Amoco isn’t going to replace you at the garage. They’ve decided to close it down and set up shop on a different site. They say it might even sell other things like groceries and the like, you know, for emergencies when the real shops are closed. That’s awful. Your father worked so long and hard at that place. It was as if he owned it. But don’t worry, when you come back I’ll have a job and there won’t be any big hurry for you to find some work. With your skills they will definitely employ you at the new workshop.
I got my final school results. I don’t want to brag, but it’s enough to say that my father was EXTREMELY pleased. And he stayed EXTREMELY pleased for a full 5 minutes … that’s when I told him that I still didn’t want to go away to university. I told him what’s the point. You’ll be home in a couple of years and we’ll be getting married. Better to wait and see what happens, where we end up living. Things like that.
With all my love, always and forever,
Tess
January 20thth, 1970
My Dear Fudge,
I loved your letter. I wanted to write back earlier but I’ve been a little unwell. I seem OK now though. Your sergeant sounds like a right beast. I hope you don’t lose your temper with him and end up in lock-up. I tell everyone that you’ve been assigned to 4-RAR. I’m not sure what it means but I’m very proud of you.
We all miss you back here. A few of us went to the beach on the weekend and Shorty took a photo of me. I’ve enclosed a copy just so you don’t forget me.
February 25thth, 1970
My Darling Fudge,
Before you read on you should sit down. I have the most exciting news but I’m not sure how you will feel about it. My father has not taken it very well at all. He is threatening to pack everything up and move to Sydney. But even if we do move, I will let you know where we are. He is very angry. I hope you won’t be.
I’m pregnant. I’m We’re having a baby! I would love to see your face as I broke that news. I am so happy! Happy! Happy! And a bit scared …. No, a lot scared! Is there any way that you could get some leave and come back for a while? Just a few days?
Please write back as soon as you get this letter.
All my love (from both of us)
Tess
May 1st, 1970
Darling Fudge,
Well, we’re moving to Sydney. Somehow dad got a promotion to the head office of the Postmaster-General’s Department. He was so stuffy before. He is becoming intolerable now.
I’m so worried about you. I haven’t heard from you since I wrote to you about the baby. I do hope you received that letter. Please don’t be angry. Are you still in Australia? Have you been sent overseas? When it’s quiet at night I like to put my hand on my tummy and talk to the baby. I want to tell her (I’m sure it’s a girl) all about you and what you’re up to. But if you don’t write then I will have to make up some stories.
I will let you know our new address when we move.
All our love.
The sound of the bookstore owner’s heavy footsteps on the staircase broke Tess’s reverie. She found herself staring at the promise key, running her fingers over the engraved letters and numbers. She could still hear his words and see the shape of his lips as he made the promise: Theresa and Charles McFudgen - that will be us.
“Theresa Newell!” The booming voice made Tess jump. She quickly slipped the key back into her handbag.
“Theresa Newell!” The book store owner’s face was flushed, from excitement or the effort of climbing the stairs, Tess couldn’t tell. “I knew I knew you!” He waited for a hint of recognition to cross Tess’s face.
“Bertie,” he declared eventually, “Bertie Birman! I was in your class at school….!” Bertie’s look of jubilation turned to disappointment. “Oh dear!” He smoothed his forehead and ran his hands over his ample jowls. “I really have aged, haven’t I?”
“Bertie! Of course!” Tess stood and extended her hand.
“None of that,” blustered Bertie and before Tess could object he had kissed her on both cheeks and wrapped his arms around her.
“Oh, so does this mean I get to use the toilet for free?”
Bertie released his grip and took a
step backwards. “Oh, don’t worry about that. ‘Twas was only a wee joke!” He hollered at his own wit and motioned for Tess to sit back down.
In the minutes that followed Bertie told Tess that the post master who took over from her father had stayed for ten years after which time Australia Post ended its lease and moved into the main shopping centre. Bertie’s father took over the lease of the old post office and set it up as a book store. When he retired fifteen years ago Bertie took over the business.
“Now,” he said, “The council is going to sell this place. Word is the favoured buyer is ready with the bulldozers.”
Tess suddenly looked upset. “Yes, somebody told us that last night. I must confess I didn’t believe it. How could such a beautiful place as this be taken off the Heritage Register? That’s very odd, and disappointing.”
“Odd indeed. There’s a story there, I’m sure. Come back in twelve months and what you will see here will be a multi-storey apartment block. And I’m off to Brisbane. I’m told they still read paper books there.”
Tess was tired. Partly from Bertie’s excitable presence but also from the emotional rollercoaster ride that seeing her home had set her off on. And now, Bertie’s confirmation that it was about to be destroyed was all a little too much to take in.
“Well, it’s been lovely seeing you, Bertie. Good luck with the packing.”
“And good luck to you too, Tess.” Then, in a turn of sensitivity that caught Tess off guard, he added, “and I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“Thank you, Bertie.” Tess felt her eyes moisten as she turned to leave but a book caught her attention. “Actually, I’ll take that one.”
Bertie took the book out of the half-packed carton and ran his hand over the tome as if he were about to lose a friend. “A Journey With The Tillerman: The Collected Verses of JB Crown. Wonderful.” Bertie closed his eyes. “Your fee to cross t’other side? I asked and tipped my hat…”
Tess joined in, “Just threepence, said the tillerman. A ha’penny for your cat.”
“Brilliant!” declared Bertie. “Five dollars. Where are you staying?”
He placed the thick book into a paper bag and handed it to Tess.
“Seaview Apartments.”
“Brilliant.”
Tess could see Mia across on the beach talking on the phone. “Thank you again, Bertie. I’d better see what my granddaughter is up to.” Tess stepped out onto the footpath and was about to cross the road to the beach when Bertie called after her.
“Tess, did you ever receive the green box?”
Tess turned around and walked back to the doorway where Bertie was standing.
“Green box? I’m not sure what you mean?”
“There was a box, about so big.” He drew invisible lines with his hands indicating something about the size and shape of a shoe box. “It had your name on it. It was left here by the postmaster when my father moved in. It was sitting there under the counter for years, just gathering dust. Don’t know where it is now though.”
“I don’t know of any box.” Tess replied. Then she smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “Probably a gift from a secret admirer. I had so many.”
“Yes,” Bertie blushed, “and I confess that I was one of them. Although you would never have known it. You only had eyes for Charlie McFudgen.” Bertie exhaled a resigned sigh. “None of us could compete with him. Whatever became of Fudge?”
Tess’s smile disappeared. “I’d better go. Mia’s waiting.”
“Lunch?” called Bertie.
“Maybe,” replied Tess.
“Ah, brilliant!”