Amy's Rest

by S R Silcox

  “Imagine being a judge,” Georgia said, delicately popping the last piece of her slice into her mouth.

  “You’d get very fat, I reckon,” Zoe said, standing up. “I need something to wash this down with. Do you want anything?”

  “I’d love a coffee,” Georgia replied. While Zoe was in the kitchen, she took the opportunity to check out the photos Zoe had scattered around the TV cabinet. It was easy to pick Zoe out. She had a broad grin and fly-away hair and seemed to be always doing something rather than sitting still. In one photo, she had her mouth open, apparently mid-sentence, while in another, she was sitting with a man Georgia presumed was her grandfather, and was staring intently at something he held in his hands, one knee bent up in front of her, the other leg dangling off the bench.

  Zoe handed Georgia her coffee and pointed to one with Zoe sitting on a bench in front of a wall of records, her arm around her dad’s waist. “Pop and Dad used to help out at a local community radio station.”

  “Really?”

  Zoe took a sip of her coffee and nodded. “Dad was into ham radios and stuff when he was a kid. Thought he was going to be a radio star.”

  Georgia smiled. “He looks like he loved it.”

  “He did,” Zoe replied. “Had to give it up when Pop got crook. Got his fix by calling up the talk-back shows though.”

  It sounded to Georgia like letting go of your own dreams to be part of the family business seemed to run in the Jennings family. She figured she probably didn’t need to say that out loud. She took hold of Zoe’s hand and squeezed.

  “Is that why you keep all those cassettes in your car?”

  Zoe smiled. “They’re copies of Dad’s old play lists. Some of them even have him talking on them. Stuff he pre-recorded for the late night spots when he couldn’t make it in.”

  Georgia’s heart softened. “Do you listen to them?”

  Zoe swallowed and took in a long breath. “Once a year,” she replied, and Georgia knew when that was without having to ask.

  There was an awkward silence between them. Georgia wasn’t sure what to say next, but thankfully, Zoe broke it by pointing to another picture. This one was of her Pop, Dad and Zoe and Jack, the two kids sitting proudly on a timber bench.

  “That’s the workshop,” Zoe said.

  Georgia sipped her coffee. “Looks exactly the same.”

  Zoe nodded. “Pop had it all set up perfectly. The only thing Dad added was a kid-sized work bench in the back for me and Jack to muck around on when we were there.” She let out a breath. “I’m going to miss that place.”

  “It must be hard to let it go,” Georgia said, quietly.

  Zoe nodded and let out a breath. “There’s so much history in that old place. I’m just glad I still have all the old workbenches and tools. I just wish I could find somewhere to put it all.”

  “What about the cottage?” Georgia asked.

  Zoe screwed up her nose and shook her head. “There’s no way I can afford something like that now it’s done up.”

  “I could help you get the finance,” Georgia offered. “That is my job.”

  Zoe let go of Georgia’s hand and dropped heavily onto the lounge. Georgia followed her over and sat beside her.

  “I’d be happy to have a look,” Georgia pressed. “Just to give you an idea. I actually think Molly’s right. It would be perfect for your classes and if you wanted to set it up for that youth camp idea.”

  “Like I said the other day, that idea is dead,” Zoe said, her voice turning a little harder.

  Georgia knew she’d hit a sore point, so she decided to let it go. “I’m sorry. I just think it’s a great idea, that’s all, and obviously your family does too.”

  Zoe snorted out a breath. “Jack needs me in the business right now. There’s no time for pie-in-the-sky stuff.” She drank her coffee and looked across the room.

  Georgia wondered if Zoe was thinking about her parents, and whether things might have been different if they were still alive. Things would have been different for Georgia if Amy was still alive, that was certain. For a start, there was no way Georgia would have been falling for her builder. That thought jolted her, surprising her. Was she falling for Zoe because she missed Amy so much, she just wanted the company? Or were the feelings she was starting to have for Zoe real?

  She grabbed Zoe’s hand and squeezed. Zoe gave Georgia a sad smile. A sense of melancholy seemed to settle itself over the room.

  A knock at the door made Zoe pull her hand away. She jumped up and opened the door to find Jack on the porch.

  “Molly’s got some more scones she wants you to try,” he said.

  “I don’t know if I can fit much more in,” Georgia said.

  Jack chuckled. “She’s got another batch of cupcakes in the oven too, so don’t think the scones are the last of it.”

  Georgia looked at Zoe who was still standing by the door. She raised her eyebrow. “I’m keen if you are?”

  “We won’t need dinner if she keeps baking like this,” Zoe replied.

  Jack grinned. “That’s what I’m hoping.” He wheeled away and Georgia and Zoe followed.

  “How do you stay so thin with all Molly’s cooking?” Georgia asked as they walked across the yard to the main house.

  “Just good genes,” Zoe shrugged.

  Georgia pinched Zoe on the butt. “Good jeans alright.”

  THIRTY-NINE

  The week had gone fast, especially now that Zoe and Georgia seemed to be spending much more time together outside of the build. After work each day, they’d end up at Zoe’s place, kissing and joking and getting to know each other, before they’d have dinner with Jack, Molly and the kids.

  For his part, Jack seemed to be pleased that Zoe and Georgia were finally getting along, and if he knew something was going on between them, he didn’t say. Molly certainly wouldn’t have mentioned it to him that was for sure.

  Although Zoe was starting to really fall for Georgia, she was determined to take things slowly. She was extremely conscious of Georgia still missing Amy, and she didn’t want to push their relationship any faster than Georgia was comfortable with.

  Molly had been asking for updates on their relationship but Zoe had been stonewalling her, not wanting to jinx it or put a name to it. Who knew what would happen when the next week was up? She hoped Georgia would stick around a bit longer, and she didn’t want to think about her going back to the city and never coming back, even though that was a distinct possibility.

  All Zoe knew was that for right now, she was enjoying renovating the cottage, and she was pretty sure Georgia felt the same way.

  She crawled out from under the cottage, pushing a mound of timber and debris in front of her. She’d been cleaning out what felt like a hundred years of rubbish under the floor space so Simmo could install new pipes. She picked up a pile to take to the overloaded skip bin and began shoving bits in wherever it would fit. She picked up the last piece of timber and was about to toss it in when something caught her eye.

  She brushed the dirt off to reveal some routed letters, and when she rinsed the timber off under the tap, it revealed the words ‘Hill House’. The letters were hand-carved by the look of the tool marks and Zoe realised that this must be the original name of the cottage. She dusted herself off and rushed through the back door to find Georgia standing in the middle of the floor where the kitchen was going in the next day, her hands on her hips.

  “Hey,” Zoe said. “Check this out.” She showed Georgia the sign. “Looks like this might have been the original cottage name.”

  “The cottage had a name?” Georgia asked.

  “Most old places do,” Zoe replied. “I’d say the Hill family owned this one originally, or it’s because the house is built on a hill.”

  Georgia glanced at the sign. “How original,” she said with a smile.

  “You’ll have to come up with a name for this one,” Zoe said.

  “Can’t we just use that one?” Georgia asked.
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br />   “It’s not the same cottage, but I can clean this up and paint it and put it somewhere…” She glanced around the room. “Maybe in here, to show the history of the place.”

  “If you want,” Georgia replied with a shrug. She seemed distracted.

  “What are you doing in here? I thought you were cleaning windows?” Zoe asked.

  “I was,” Georgia said. “And then I came in here and realised that I just couldn’t picture it.”

  “Picture what?” Zoe asked.

  “The kitchen,” Georgia replied, waving her hands in the air. “I just can’t see how it would work.”

  “That’s a bit of a problem considering it’s getting installed tomorrow,” Zoe said. “And anyway, it’s not like you’ll be cooking in it, if you’re selling it.”

  Georgia pulled a face and rolled her eyes.

  “Okay,” Zoe said, scratching her chin. “Make me a sandwich.”

  Georgia looked horrified. “I beg your pardon?”

  “If you want to know whether the kitchen layout works, you need to know how you’d use it,” Zoe explained. “Make a sandwich.”

  Georgia looked around at the tape on the floor. “What sort of sandwich?”

  “What does it matter?” Zoe asked.

  “It matters,” Georgia said, “because if you want Vegemite, I have to go to the pantry.”

  “The fridge,” Zoe corrected her.

  Georgia’s eyebrows shot up. “No way! You keep your Vegemite in the fridge?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “I do not,” Georgia replied with mock disgust.

  “Vegemite’s too easy,” Zoe said. “How about a ham, cheese and tomato?”

  “Really?” Georgia asked.

  Zoe crossed her arms. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “It’s a bit boring, isn’t it?” Georgia said.

  “There’s nothing wrong with ham, cheese and tomato,” Zoe shot back. “It’s a classic.”

  “I suppose so,” Georgia said. “But have you ever tried chicken and pesto, with sun dried tomatoes? Much nicer, especially if you make it with focaccia.”

  “We don’t have focaccia,” Zoe said.

  “How do you know? Is this your kitchen or mine?” Georgia asked, one eyebrow raised.

  Zoe resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Just make the damn sandwich.”

  Georgia snorted out a breath but moved around the pretend kitchen, commentating her movements as she went. Zoe noticed the subtle change in language Georgia used, from being distant from the build at the beginning to referring to ‘her’ fridge, ‘our’ cutlery and ‘my kitchen’. She wondered if Georgia was considering keeping the cottage. She wouldn’t be the first person to fall in love with a renovation project that was meant to be for profit, but she wondered what Rick Wheeler would think about that. As for worrying about what fake sandwich she was making though, that was next level.

  “Cheddar or Swiss?” Georgia asked, holding her hands out like she had cheese in each of them.

  “What do you think?” Zoe asked.

  “Well, I’d say cheddar, since you’re obviously—” she stopped mid-sentence and glanced at Zoe, one eyebrow quirking up. “Traditional,” she finished. “But I’m going to give you Swiss, just for something different. You’ll love it, I promise.”

  Zoe rolled her eyes and held her tongue. How had such a simple exercise turned into something so bloody complicated? After making her pretend sandwich, Georgia stopped all of a sudden and put her hands on her hips, glancing around.

  “What’s wrong now?” Zoe asked.

  Georgia glanced up. “Where do we keep the plates?

  “Oh for crying out loud,” Zoe said, throwing her hands into the air.

  Georgia mimed pulling out a drawer and placing the invisible sandwich on an invisible plate.

  “Done?” Zoe asked hopefully.

  “Almost,” Georgia replied.

  Zoe almost hated to ask, but she did anyway. “What now?”

  “Do you want your sandwich toasted? Because I’ll need to know where we keep the sandwich press,” Georgia replied.

  If it wasn’t for noticing the corners of Georgia’s mouth twitching up into a smile, and that smile making Zoe’s heart beat just a little bit faster, Zoe would’ve told Georgia to stop being so painful. Instead, she said, “I’m fine with untoasted.”

  Georgia smiled. “Do you want me to cut it into triangles or rectangles?”

  “Just give me the damn sandwich,” Zoe replied, surprising herself by sticking out her hand and accepting the invisible plate.

  They stood there smiling at each other for a moment, and then Georgia crossed her arms and said, “Well?”

  “Well what?” Zoe asked.

  “Aren’t you going to take a bite?”

  Zoe rolled her eyes, but she laughed in spite of herself along with Georgia. “Was there anything else you needed my opinion on?” she asked.

  “That was all,” Georgia replied, still smiling.

  Zoe stole a kiss and then turned and walked away.

  “Where are you going?” Georgia asked.

  “Some of us have work to do,” Zoe replied, grinning as she skipped down the back steps. “And don’t forget to clean up the kitchen.”

  FORTY

  On Friday after lunch, Georgia sat outside having a cool drink in the shade of one of the sheds, watching the show crews set up in the distance. The Ferris Wheel went up earlier in the day, the afternoon sun reflecting off the carriages, and Georgia could make out some other rides going up nearby. She wondered what it would look like at night.

  Nick had been backwards and forwards from the cottage during the week, and had most afternoons off so he could practice whatever it was he was doing for the Mister Elizabeth Creek competition. Georgia was looking forward to seeing what it was all about on Saturday night. She hadn’t been to a show in years, not since Amy had gotten sick.

  The Ekka in August was one of Amy’s favourite things. She was such a big kid at heart, it was hard not to get pulled in to her fun and adventurous spirit. Amy probably would’ve loved to go to the Elizabeth Creek Show. Georgia was surprised to find that that thought didn’t make her sad like it once would have. Nick had asked her to go and watch him tomorrow night, and when Zoe confirmed she and Jack and his family would be there, it was a no-brainer. It would be nice to have some fun for a change. She stood up and carried her chair back to the shed to find Zoe on the phone.

  Zoe smiled at her and nodded and when she finished the call, she said, “Want to be an apprentice for a bit longer?”

  Georgia grinned. “Why not?”

  “We’ve got to go over to the showgrounds and fix the door on the caller’s box,” Zoe said.

  “What do you need me to do?” Georgia asked.

  “Hold my tools,” Zoe winked, kissing Georgia on the cheek.

  “I guess I can do that,” Georgia grinned.

  Zoe unlocked the old wooden door at the back of the grandstand and pushed it open. She walked in and started up the stairs but Georgia didn’t follow.

  “Are you sure it’s safe?” Georgia asked.

  Zoe came back down one step and ducked her head so Georgia could see her through the doorway. “It’s fine, trust me.” She held out her hand and wiggled her fingers. “Pass me the toolbox.”

  Georgia handed Zoe the toolbox and followed her inside into the darkness. The wooden ladder creaked as they climbed, giving Georgia the feeling it was far older than it looked on the outside.

  “Watch your head,” Zoe said as they reached the top. She pulled on a cord and a low-hanging light came on, illuminating the cramped space.

  Georgia ducked through the doorway at the top of the stairs and stood and watched while Zoe unlocked a wooden shutter and pushed on it. It didn’t budge.

  “Probably just needs some grease,” Zoe said, grunting as she gave the shutter one last shove.

  Georgia watched as Zoe went about her business, greasing and loosening the hinges un
til the shutter opened and closed easily. “That’s got it,” Zoe said, apparently satisfied. She opened the shutter all the way up and dragged the bench seat forward and sat down. She patted the seat and Georgia slid in beside her.

  “It’s a bit tight,” Zoe said. “It’s only really meant for one person.”

  “It’s cosy,” Georgia agreed, sliding over so their legs were touching. She placed her hand on Zoe’s knee.

  Zoe leaned forward. “It’s a great view from up here, isn’t it?”

  Georgia watched the show workers going about their business below them, setting up rides and food trucks and games.

  “Dad used to bring me up here when I was little,” Zoe said. “My grandfather built this place.”

  “Did he?”

  Zoe nodded. “Every inch of it, and Dad did the upgrades and now Jack and I do the maintenance.”

  “Impressive,” Georgia replied. “Do you get to come up here often?”

  “Outside of fixing stuff? Once a year. On the anniversary of their deaths.”

  Georgia turned, surprised. “But, Jack said you go camping every year.”

  Zoe smiled and shook her head. “Jack thinks he knows a lot of things.” She leaned her elbows on the window and rested her chin on her hand. “This is the place I feel closest to all of them.”

  Even though Georgia didn’t have a place like this to feel closest to Amy, she could certainly relate. “So how do you get away with it?”

  “Get away with what?” Zoe asked.

  “Sneaking up here every year with no-one knowing.”

  Zoe’s mouth turned up into a sly smile. “I park the ute at the work shed and carry my swag down. That’s why I go late at night. Everyone’s in bed.”

  “And no-one would question your ute being parked at work,” Georgia said. “Clever.”

  “Thank you,” Zoe replied.

  “And you never thought to tell Jack and Molly?”

  “They’ve never asked,” Zoe replied.

  “Fair enough,” Georgia said.

  There was a noise at the bottom of the ladder, and Nick’s voice carried up from below. “You up there, Boss?”