The Tillerman's Gift

by C J Brown

CHAPTER 12

  A council work crew was busily barricading off a damaged section of footpath outside Sheila’s Flowers: Florist to the Stars. It used be plain old Sheila’s Flowers until an actor from an Australian soapie dropped in one day and bought a rose for his girlfriend. Sheila recognised his face but couldn’t remember his name. Still, that was justification for new signage – to reflect my clientele, she had boasted at the time. Two doors down was the Pacific Coast Community Bank.

  Across the road Alison was absent-mindedly inspecting shoes in a boutique fashion shop. In two days it would be two years exactly since Peter went MIA. She still loved him. Of course she did. It had only been two years. But what if those two years became three? Three turned into four? When do you let go? Or do you become like Tess and never let go, still looking for answers decades later? Still clinging to, no, mourning for that promise of love forever. Carrying that promise in your handbag every day and hanging it on your bed every night … for forty years.

  Alison returned a colourful sandal, that she didn’t even realise she was holding, to its place on the shelf just as the deep rumble of the motorbike sounded from across the road. The bike slowed and turned into the narrow driveway beside the bank before disappearing around the back of the building.

  An almost overwhelming panic quivered through Alison’s body and she found herself dodging cars as she hurried across the road, running towards instead of away from danger. Telling herself to stay calm she walked through the front door of the bank and, with as much composure as she could manage, walked past an elderly gentleman supporting himself with a walking stick and quickly proceeded to the counter.

  “Excuse me, miss.”

  “I’m sorry, madam, this gentleman was first. Would you mind moving to the end of the line? I’m sorry, Mr Davies, please come forward.”

  Alison stood her ground. “Well, under normal circumstances I would, but …” Alison read the girl’s nametag, “…, Zoe, there is a small emergency. I need to speak to the manager.”

  Zoe raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to the side. “And I’m guessing you don’t have an appointment.”

  “No, please hurry.”

  “Look, I’m not even sure if he’s in yet.”

  “Well, in that case you had better decide what to do. There is about to be a robbery.”

  Alison anticipated a commotion. She readied herself for the sound of alarms, flashing lights, slamming security grills and police sirens. Zoe, however, just stared back at her.

  “Say what?” Mr Davies moved a little closer and fiddled with his hearing aid. “A corroboree? In here? What a silly idea. I want to see the manager, too.”

  “Look,” Zoe raised her hands and motioned for everyone to calm down. “Mr Davies, there’s not going to be a corroboree. She said robbery.”

  “Oh, thank goodness. All that smoke. No good for the asthma, you know. You gave me quite a fright. But I suppose a robbery isn’t much good either. I’m just going to sit down for a moment.”

  “There’s a man, on a motorbike.” Alison continued. “He’s been following us for days. He’s definitely up to no good. He might even be…,” Alison looked around cautiously to accentuate the gravity of what she was about to reveal, “… a murderer!”

  At that moment a door behind Zoe opened, and there he stood. Alison’s eyes widened and her jaw dropped. She wanted to scream, she wanted to run, but every muscle had seized up.

  Zoe quickly turned around.

  "Oh, you’re back, Dep. Just in time. This lady wants to report a robbery... that hasn't actually happened yet."

  "Well, that sounds serious," the manager frowned. "You'd better step into my office. Please come in."

  Alison was trying to make sense of what was happening. In her mind she replayed the events of the past couple of days that involved this tall stranger: the encounter at the service station, his turning up at the same B&B then prowling around her mother's car.

  "Please," he repeated, "Come in."

  Just because he's a bank manager doesn't mean he's not an axe-murderer. But I should be safe here. She walked around the counter and followed him into his office.

  "Do you mind if we leave the door open?" she asked.

  "Of course." They both sat down.

  "Now, how can I help? You have some information about a planned robbery, is that right?"

  Alison felt her head tingle as a red embarrassment crept up from her neck to her forehead. "I think..." she stuttered, "... I think there's been a bit of a misunderstanding."

  "You look upset, Miss…?”

  “Turner. Alison Turner.”

  “I’m Dep Chandra.” He took a business card from his pocket and handed it to Alison. “I have an idea. I’ve been on the road all morning and need a little sustenance. There's a sandwich shop across the road. How about we talk about it over a coffee?”

  Even with the door open, Alison figured that she would feel a whole lot more at ease with lots of people around, even if it was just to witness her tragic demise at the hands of a deranged killer.

  It was warm in the sunshine and the bank manager’s easy smile made Alison feel more relaxed. At least mum was right about one thing, he is good looking. Maybe she was right about us reading too much into too little, as well.

  The coffee, as it turned out, was a slight improvement on Rufus’ effort the previous day, although Alison still had to resist the urge to go behind the counter and give the so-called-barista a free lesson: Step 1. If it’s lousy, tip it out and start again!

  “Yes, it’s fine, thank you,” she nodded when the waiter asked if it was to her liking. Then Alison looked at Dep Chandra.

  “First of all,” she started sheepishly, “you’re bank isn’t going to be robbed, at least as far as I know.” She felt her face tingle again as she began to recall their coincidental encounters during the trip to Clowder Bay. As she spoke, he listened with a bemused smile but without interrupting.

  “So,” he said finally, “your mother owns that Chevy Nomad! What a car! I couldn’t help staring at it. I’m sorry about scaring you at the service station, but with my tinted visor and your tinted windows I didn’t even know there were people inside. I love old bikes and cars. They just don’t make them like they used to.”

  Suddenly Alison heard a familiar voice.

  “Hello, it seems we’re all making friends.”

  “Hi, Mum. Join us. We were actually just talking about you. Or your car, at least.”

  Dep quickly carried a chair from another table and placed it for Tess.

  “Thank you.” Tess looked at Dep carefully, “Have we met before?”

  “Hello. I’m Deepak Chandra. Please call me Dep. I’m the manager of the bank over there.”

  Tess looked across at the building. “It’s had a name change, I see.”

  “Yes, but the same good, old fashioned service,” Dep smiled.

  “Mum, you might remember Dep as the man who was admiring your car at Banksville the other night.”

  “Oh, yes.” A flash of recognition crossed Tess’s face. “The axe-murderer, of course. My daughter and granddaughter are big fans. Lovely to finally meet you,” she said, giving Alison a very unsubtle I-told-you-so look.

  “Yes, I was just telling Alison how much I admire your Nomad, beautiful. Left hand drive. Mid fifties?”

  “1956. Bought it from a farmer in Tasmania who imported it from the US. And your bike, I was admiring that.”

  “I’d be happy to take you for a ride.”

  “Oh, no thank you, but I’m sure Alison would love to, wouldn’t you, Ali?”

  “What? Me on a motorbike? I don’t think so.”

  “Oh, I also have a nice little car,” Dep added. “1970 Triumph TRS.”

  Tess was impressed. “Convertible?”

  “Of course. Perfect for days like this.”

  It was then that Alison realised where Tess was steering the conversation. With a deliberate movement she raised her left hand to her
cheek.

  “I really don’t think that would be good idea.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry…” said Dep, noticing that Alison was deliberately displaying her engagement ring. “I hope you don’t think …”

  “It’s perfectly alright. You’ve been very kind and understanding. You would have been entitled to have had me dragged out of your bank in a straitjacket.”

  Dep stood. “I’d better get back to work. I’ve been all over the countryside the past few days visiting clients. I’m sure there’s a mountain of papers waiting for me. Alison, if ever you and your fiancé would like to open an account, or take out a loan, please let me know. I’ll handle it personally.”

  “Oh, he’s in Afghanistan,” Tess informed him quickly. “We’re not expecting him back for some time.” She winced as though she could feel the eye-daggers that she knew Alison was now throwing at her.

  “Well, anyway,” Dep smiled awkwardly, “here’s my card. If there’s anything you need, please…”

  “You take it, Mum. I already have one,” Alison was clearly upset as Dep turned and left.

  “How dare you,” Alison sobbed. “How dare you say that.”

  Tess waved the waiter over and ordered a cup of ginger and lime infusion.

  “Ali, it’s two years….”

  “Two years on Friday!” Alison interjected.

  “Well maybe it is time to start planning for the rest of your life. You’re still young and…”

  “Stop right there, Mum. Who are you to be telling me to move on? You’ve been idling in neutral for forty years. Holding on to that key, to that promise. Forty damn years!”

  “You know perfectly well it’s different. I haven’t been waiting for him to come home. I’ve been wondering what happened to him, what happened to us, that’s all.”

  “That’s all?” Alison suddenly realised that her voice had started to attract the attention of others in the café. “That’s all?” she repeated quietly. “You’ve never married. Never even looked at another man as far as I know. You became a teacher and have taught at the same school all your life. It’s as if you’ve been afraid to do anything, to go anywhere in case you would suddenly wake up from the dream of the life you wanted but never had. You won’t even eat Vietnamese food, for goodness sake!”

  “Afraid to do anything? I raised you for one thing. And don’t think for a minute that was easy to do by myself. And look at you. You’re, you’re…” Tess started crying.

  Alison suddenly softened and reached for her mother’s hand. “I know, selfish and totally ungrateful.”

  “I was going to say beautiful. You’re strong and resilient. And you’re a far better mother to Mia than I ever was to you.”

  “Did I hear my name,” Mia beamed as she sat down in the chair vacated by the bank manager. Then, noticing the red eyes, “I feel I should be upset about something, too.”

  Alison took a deep breath and smiled. “Oh, it’s, you know… why can’t anybody around here make a decent cup of coffee!”