by Lily Malone
‘What time is it?’ she croaked.
‘Not quite three,’ he said. ‘Sorry if I woke you.’
‘It’s okay.’ She swung her feet to the floor. Her head hurt and her tongue was thick and heavy with the taste of last night’s gin. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Making scones. I couldn’t sleep.’
Spread on the kitchen countertop was a bag of flour, a butter container with the lid off, salt and a carton of cream. The oven light shone in the background, a gentle hum coming from the appliance.
‘My head hurts,’ she confessed.
‘Do you want me to find you a Panadol? Ella will have some.’
‘I always try to survive hangovers without drugs … if you do the crime, you do the time, you know?’
‘Bugger that. Take the drugs.’ He turned his back on the mixing bowl and snuck into the pantry, finding a packet of Panadol, popping out two capsules and giving them to her with a glass of water.
Taylor swallowed the capsules with a mixture of guilt and gratitude.
Abe shaped handfuls of dough into scones, laying them out on a baking tray.
‘So, why are you making scones at three in the morning?’
He winked at her. ‘I’m not rubbing your feet now, Doc. I don’t have to answer.’
‘You woke me up. You gave me this hangover. You owe me.’
He kept shaping, deft fingers, quick and assured, laying out circular piles across the tray. ‘I don’t sleep well at the best of times. The couch got a little crowded.’
Colour flushed her throat. Last thing she remembered was leaning into him, head on his shoulder, and Abe taking the drink from her hand. Maybe he’d taken the drink from her before her head hit his shoulder. She didn’t know.
‘I hope I didn’t embarrass myself,’ she said, as he opened the oven door and put the tray on the middle shelf.
‘Relax. It’s all good. You don’t sleep talk and you don’t snore.’
She refilled the glass with water and took a long drink and when she caught Abe’s eye he was watching her, his expression unreadable.
‘Go back to bed, Doc. You look a little rumpled.’
Her hand fluttered to her hair. Of course she looked rumpled. She was still in her clothes and her hair was a mess.
‘You’re welcome to stay the night.’ She indicated the couch she’d vacated. ‘I can get you a pillow.’
‘Nah. I’ll cook these so you can have a fresh scone in the morning. There’s strawberry jam in the fridge and there’s some cream left. I’ll whip it for you.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’ll head home. Get some sleep. Clean up.’
‘How long will they take to cook?’
‘Fifteen. Eighteen minutes.’
‘I can wait up—’
‘Go, Doc. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll lock the door when I go. Leave the key under the pot plant. Okay?’
‘Okay. Do you need help at the café tomorrow? Um, I mean today?’
He shrugged. ‘Let’s see, hey? Let’s see how it goes. See how your head feels in the morning.’
‘Okay. Goodnight.’
He was being deliberately casual, deliberately vague, but not uncaring or standoffish. Taylor wasn’t surprised after the depths they’d explored last night. It wasn’t a brush off and she didn’t take it that way. It was just a bloke’s grab for space while he sorted his head out. The guy was baking scones for her breakfast, so she wasn’t about to pester him on whether a foot rub equalled I want a picket fence, a dog, a sparkly diamond ring.
But he must like her, right? You didn’t rub the feet of a girl you didn’t like. You didn’t make scones for her at three o’clock in the morning if you didn’t like her. Right?
Go to bed, Taylor. You’re still drunk.
So she left Abe in Ella’s kitchen baking scones and, as she walked towards the corridor leading to the bedrooms, she caught a glimpse of Bruno outside, black nose pressed to the glass.
Those scones must smell good to him too.
* * *
Abe didn’t set the timer because he didn’t want to wake Taylor if she’d managed to fall asleep while the scones cooked. If it had been him, no way would he fall asleep in a strange bed in fifteen minutes. He could lie awake for hours these days, head crammed with the dumbest thoughts in the world. Like shopping lists, and what might make a good gluten-free option for lunch; money, and whether he’d made enough to cover costs this week; wildflowers and orchids, and whether he knew anything about that orchid those hikers had asked him about yesterday. Even he’d heard of the Queen of Sheba, but come to think of it, wasn’t it nearly extinct? And was the wildflower information board in Mount Barker or should he have sent those people through the town of Porongurup?
The dough had risen and the scones looked golden and perfect when he opened the oven door and took them out, letting them rest on top of the stove.
Abe shut everything off, though the fan in the oven continued to run as it cooled.
Scones smelled great. He’d have one before he went home. Why not? It was breakfast-time somewhere.
He cleaned up the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher with the mixing bowl and the measuring cups. By then, he judged the scones cool enough to try.
He pulled out another bowl to whisk the cream.
It only took a few minutes and he had soft-peaked whipped cream, and another bowl and whisk to add to the dishwasher. They hadn’t run the machine last night, so Abe hunted for the dishwasher powder and started the cycle.
Then he took a bite of scone. Light. Fluffy. Great.
Gone in a few bites.
He wrapped a couple in a towel to take home for Brix. Found a Tupperware container in Ella’s cupboard for the others, and checked the clock on the wall. Quarter to four.
Abe kept one scone out and put it on a plate. He tore a page from a notebook near Ella’s landline phone and scribbled a message for Taylor, propping it against the scone.
Carefully, Abe stepped towards the bedroom.
The door was open a crack and he pushed it inwards. It whispered across the carpet.
It took his eyes a while to adjust to the dark, but he had enough light from the open door to make out Taylor, curled right of centre in the queen-size bed.
She slept on her side, and made such a small lump under the covers with her feet drawn up. One hand was under her cheek, the other crossed over it at the wrist, like a puppy might cross its paws. Her fingers twitched.
Slowly, Abe closed the space and set the scone on its plate on the bedside table, not far from Taylor’s nose. Her mouth was open, and he got a hint of the scent of peppermint from her breath. Toothpaste.
Her fringe made a dark note spread on the cream pillow slip.
She muttered something and he froze in place, listening, wishing she’d say it again. The urgency flooded him, that what she dreamed was important and he needed to know.
But the room stayed quiet.
* * *
When Taylor woke, she saw a white candle on the bedside table. It had an uneven top, like it had been burning on a lean.
Strange. She didn’t remember seeing a candle there before.
She sniffed. A scented candle. Strawberry-scented.
Taylor rolled to her back, warm in the cocoon of mattress and quilts, enjoying the nest. The night before washed over her, more vivid with each second, until the events stitched themselves neatly into the complete picture of her evening.
An amazing fish curry. Too much gin and tonic. Foot rubs on the couch. Kisses on her feet. Falling asleep on Abe’s shoulder. Scones at three in the morning.
She turned her head to check out that funny-looking candle that smelled of strawberries; felt for the lamp and turned it on.
There was a scone on the bedside table.
All together now: awwww.
It made her smile, and she pushed herself up onto her elbows, twisting to get a better look at this breakfast of champions.
A
scone. Home-cooked. Personally delivered.
She was a lucky gal.
That was when she noticed the note, wedged behind the scone, propped against the bedside clock. The digital numbers glowed red through the square of paper.
Taylor picked it up and read the message.
What did you expect, Doc? Poetry?
Have a great day.
P.S. Whipped cream in fridge.
CHAPTER
13
The dullish thump in her head cleared after her second cup of coffee, second scone and a brisk game of fetch in the backyard with Bruno.
By mid-morning, Taylor put Bruno on his leash and headed into town. She needed milk, bread and a few other things to get her through to Monday.
Monday. Ugh.
She didn’t feel like heading back to Perth on Monday, but she had to. Work called, and she’d told the clinic she’d only be away a week. There were patients who needed her. Kristin had covered last week but it wasn’t fair to ask her partner to cover her patients again.
That left two more days with Abe. Two nights.
She wasn’t being presumptuous, she decided, walking along. She was pretty sure Abe was into spending a few nights with her too.
Picking up the pace—she had two scones to work off, not to mention two servings of jam and whipped cream—Taylor turned onto the highway and hiked past the shops. Before she bought bread she’d give her mum and dad a call, make sure they were okay. Then perhaps she’d catch Izzy on a break at the vet surgery, have a chat.
After that? The day opened before her, bright and sunny. She could drive down to Albany, see if she could spot a whale breaching in King George Sound. She could visit the new war memorial, or go out to the blow holes and the natural bridge.
Or, she could go see Abe. Spend some time at the café. After that thought, well, there really was nowhere else she’d rather be.
* * *
‘This leek and feta quiche is gluten-free, see the GF on the label there?’ Abe explained to the customer, running through the GF options for the second time.
‘But does it have dairy in it?’
‘No, almond milk.’
‘Lani won’t eat it, Gary. Almond milk,’ the woman honked to her husband like a mother goose as the boy tried to kick the girl while his mother’s back was turned.
‘What about something like this?’ Abe said, pointing to the cabinet. ‘That’s a GF tuna and vegetable frittata with zucchini. The frittata has eggs but no dairy and no almond milk.’
‘Lani, would you eat this?’ Mother Goose honked to her daughter who took one look at the cabinet and then squealed as her brother aimed another kick.
‘Both of you stop that,’ the father said, about as effective as Daddy Goose without balls. ‘Lani! Your mum asked you a question.’
The kids went right on kicking.
‘We’ll go with the frittata. Make it two. I’ll have it as well. What about you, Gary? Jace? Jace? Come and tell us what you want for lunch.’
‘Nuggets and chips,’ the boy said without looking up.
‘Do you do that?’ the woman asked Abe.
‘Yep,’ Abe said. Actually, the café didn’t do chips but he’d make an exception. Anything for a peaceful life. He’d cook a bucket-load of nuggets and a crate-load of chips to shut the old goose up.
‘The steak burger special for me please,’ Gary said.
Abe rang it up on the till. The woman paid and he’d just given them the spiel about where to find cutlery when the skinny streak of a son said, ‘Mum, I want fish and chips, not nuggets. Can I have fish and chips?’
Abe smiled around the gritty feeling in his teeth.
Mother Goose did the same thing. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘Could you change it to fish?’
‘Sure,’ Abe said.
She got her purse out. ‘Is it the same price or do you need my card again?’
‘It’s fine. We’ll work it out.’
She put her purse back in her handbag. ‘Thank you.’
The woman turned away. Abe started to head to the kitchen and then Father Goose said, ‘Actually. I don’t want the burger. I want that baked potato-looking thing in the cabinet with salad. We’re having steak for dinner tonight.’
Mother Goose said, ‘The jacket potato is a lot cheaper than the burger …’
‘I’ll bring you both a complimentary coffee if you’d like when you’ve finished your meal?’ Abe said. ‘Make up for the difference in price?’
‘Gary doesn’t drink coffee,’ she honked.
Abe smiled even though he was sure the grit in his teeth was right there for everyone to see, and turned to process the six dollar refund, and that was when he saw Taylor coming through the café carpark with Bruno trotting by her side, and his smile lost its gritty feeling and turned real.
* * *
‘I really think I could do well in hospitality,’ Taylor declared, about three hours later, as the rush hour of lunchtime slowed and the café quieted around them. ‘It’s fun.’
‘Fun,’ Abe snorted, rubbing his hands on his apron before shaking his head. ‘I don’t mind the cooking. I hate being nice to people.’
‘It’s not hard, and you only think you’re lousy at it,’ she told him. ‘I saw you with that kid this afternoon who couldn’t decide what topping he wanted on his ice-cream. You were super nice to him.’
‘Yeah, maybe. I was strangling the little bugger on the inside.’
‘That’s on the inside. We all strangle little buggers on the inside. Doing it on the inside is fine.’
‘I just offered him every topping I had.’
‘Perfect solution.’ She waved her hand at him. ‘He was stoked with that, and then you painted a stegosaurus in his ice-cream with chocolate legs and a strawberry body, with banana-flavoured spikes.’
Abe harrumphed, unconvinced. ‘I don’t know how you do it—be so nice to pain-in-the-arse people—but I’m really glad you do it, Doc. It’s great having you here. How long are you staying again? I might hafta give you a job.’
He said it with a smile, but Taylor felt her buoyant mood slip, drift on a tide, getting further away.
She couldn’t stay in Chalk Hill. She couldn’t stay in the café. Nor could she stay at Ella’s place past Monday. She had to get home.
The café (and Abe) kept her busy and occupied, but now that the customers were in an after-lunch lull, her thoughts slid back to her conversation with her mum that morning and what her mum said about Will.
Will had borrowed money from their parents and he hadn’t paid it back.
Thinking about money and Will meant thinking about Amanda. She couldn’t not think about Amanda whenever she thought about money and Will.
That bloody woman!
‘What’s up, Doc? Reckon I lost you there for a sec.’
She tried to snap herself out of it. She’d pretty much promised herself not to bang on about Amanda and Will to Abe. ‘I’ll have to head back to the city on Monday. That’s when Ella gets home. She’ll want her house, but anyway I have work to do. Patients.’
‘You’re sure that’s all it is? You’re not regretting the foot rub?’
He was talking about more than the foot rub. ‘No regrets.’
‘Then I’d better make the most of you while you’re here.’ The twinkle in his eyes was all for her.
He’d been flirting terribly. They both had. All day working together in the kitchen: a rub of a shoulder here; a pat on the back there; a crumb he’d dusted from her lip; flour she’d flicked from his collar. She’d been working the milk steamer on the coffee machine and he’d patted her arse as he walked by, making her hand on the milk jug quiver. It wasn’t a quick pat either. It was a cup-of-her-arse pat. Cup pats lingered. Cup pats, well, they cupped. All four fingers. One thumb. Yummy.
‘You’re going to need to get yourself some help in here, Abe. You can’t do it all.’
‘I know. I’d been putting it off until we got busier. Then yesterday
and today it got busy with a bullet. There’ll be some local kids who’ll work weekends for pocket money.’
‘Mums are always a good bet for working around school hours.’
‘I’ll put a sign up. Word will get around.’ From the front of the café they heard the door chime and Taylor looked at Abe. ‘Someone going out, or coming in do you think?’
‘Going out,’ she said.
‘You should get going too, Doc. You’ve done more than enough. How about I buy you dinner at the Club to say thanks? Saturday night they have karaoke.’
Taylor groaned. ‘Not karaoke.’
‘Come on. Karaoke at the Chalk Hill Bowling Club is one of those things you’ve got to do. It’s an experience.’
‘I think I’d rather try out for the army reserve, do one of those mud runs with a full backpack and khaki clothes.’
He laughed before his gaze softened. ‘I’ll pick you up at half six at your place. Brix will probably tag along. You can meet him.’
‘I’ll go home and practise my singing then, shall I?’
* * *
Once again, Taylor took the river path to avoid the magpies and give Bruno a run, and of course, once she shook off the café and started walking, it didn’t take long for her thoughts to return to Will.
Her mum said Will had borrowed ten thousand dollars from them in July. He’d said he needed it to pay annual partnership fees into his firm. He and Alex both put in some capital to kick off the financial year, according to Mum.
‘But he’d never had to borrow money from you for his business before,’ Taylor had said.
‘We weren’t worried about it, Taylor love. He said he was just a bit short and he’d pay us back. It was no big deal. We’d do it for you too if you needed help.’
But he hadn’t paid it back.
Since July.
He hadn’t ever mentioned borrowing money from their folks to her. Will knew she’d have been on his case to pay it back.
It was a while since she’d seen Will, although they’d talked on the phone. She’d got so grumpy at him earlier in the year, when every effort she made to get Will to take steps to get his money back from Amanda came up blank.