by Eva Scott
He drove slowly, drinking in the town’s vibe, noticing the comings and goings of young families on a Saturday afternoon. The grand dame might be showing signs of struggle, but there was life in the old girl yet.
Ed shook his head at his corny line of thinking. On some level, he found himself rooting for the town, wanting it to be a haven of tranquillity and success. He wanted the residents to rise up collectively and shout down his siblings, make them take their business somewhere else. That’s what his heart said, anyway. His brain had other ideas. Carpenter’s might inject some much-needed work into the area, offer jobs where there were none.
He wound down the car window to let the spring air blow these contradictory thoughts from his mind. These days he had a lot of sympathy for Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.
Cruising down the main street, he noticed the bakery and a small independent grocery snuggled up to a liquor shop. All his needs in one convenient location.
He didn’t stop. Instead, he drove on towards Cappelli’s Hardware. While he didn’t much feel up to a confrontation— which was the likely outcome of his visit when he declared what he’d come for—Ed hoped the owner would know how he could find the house with a field of wildflowers out back. The house GoldfieldsGirl lived in.
Ed scanned the street as he drove, hoping to see her. He imagined an older, sexy version of the woman in her profile pic, and in his fantasy he was the one behind the camera, the one making her laugh.
There, up ahead. He could see the old-fashioned store at the end of the town precinct, with its lopsided sign announcing its provenance—CAPPELLI’S HARDWARE, PROUDLY SERVING THE COMMUNITY SINCE 1856. The proprietor was listed as Nancetta Cappelli. Maybe he’d get away with having a conversation with Nancetta and be free to continue his search for GoldfieldsGirl. A man could hope.
He drove past, swinging the car around in a U-turn further down the road, planning to park a short walk from the store. Then he’d casually saunter by like he was a regular guy doing regular guy stuff on a Saturday afternoon.
The problem was his heart wouldn’t stop racing like he’d drunk three espressos back to back. His body jittered in its skin. Ed felt like a fifteen-year-old boy going to his first dance. He imagined he could sense GoldfieldsGirl’s presence, hyperaware that she was here somewhere close by.
‘Come on, son, get it together,’ he muttered, grateful for the lack of witnesses this end of town. When he got like this, which was not often, he liked to imagine his dad encouraging him onwards. Growing up in a blended family with a couple of tough older siblings had meant fighting every inch of the way for just about everything. While his dad hadn’t cut him any slack, he’d taught Ed how to lean in and not give up when Rosie and Oliver ganged up on him. Every situation of personal challenge evoked memories of his dad, and in these moments he missed him most.
Ed jangled the keys in his hand as he walked in an attempt to discharge all his nervous energy through annoying, repetitive sound. It didn’t work.
He took the two steps to the old-fashioned front porch of the store in one easy stride, only to come up against a CLOSED sign blocking his way.
All his crazy energy left him, depleting him just like that. They’d closed up for the day. His search for GoldfieldsGirl had stalled.
Disappointed, he peered in through the window to see long rows of shelves with a variety of goods stacked on them like something from an olden times movie set. Nothing much had changed here since 1856 it seemed. He could almost hear Oliver laughing at the rustic nature of the place.
Shoving his keys into his back pocket, Ed turned and surveyed the street. He still needed to get his supplies and the walk back to the centre of town wouldn’t take long. Might as well stretch his legs and check the place out. Part of the job after all.
As he strolled along, he noted that the buildings got newer as if charting a timeline for the town. Cappelli’s looked like it was the last store of its kind, an historical monument to a more prosperous time. He wandered past the shops built in the nineteenth and then twentieth century. Not many of either, but the subtle shift in style and architecture caught his artistic eye. How he would have liked to see this town in its heyday!
A westerly wind nipped at the tips of his ears and his fingers. He put his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the incursion, quickening his pace. Up ahead loomed the grocery store, his first stop.
Flyers announcing local football matches, kids’ karate and ballet classes, a book club looking for members one town over and a poster for a helpline if you found yourself lonely or depressed filled the window. Ed pushed the door open and stepped in. The cashier greeted him with a nod while he served a young mother, whose small child seemed determined to empty all the racks of lollies along the front counter.
‘I said leave that alone.’ The woman grabbed the boy’s hand while trying to put everything back where it was supposed to go. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Doesn’t matter. Happens all the time,’ the cashier said. A bored teenager Ed suspected might be the shop owner’s son. The little boy defiantly shoved a chocolate bar in his mouth before his mother could stop him. ‘Do you want to buy that?’
Ed turned his attention to the aisles filled with essential items. He grabbed a basket and selected some milk, a couple of heat-and-eat meals, along with a small fruit loaf and some butter. Enough to get him through the next couple of days.
The young mother was still at the counter when he got there.
‘Can I owe you for it?’ she said. ‘I’m a dollar fifty short.’ She showed her empty purse to the cashier to prove her point.
He stared at it impassively and shrugged. ‘Dad’s got a policy of no credit.’ He pointed to a laminated handwritten sign. Don’t ask for credit as refusal often offends.
‘We get paid Monday and it’s not like I can give the chocolate back.’ They all looked at the little boy happily sucking on the bar even though it remained in its wrapper. ‘No one is going to want to buy that now.’
‘I do.’ Ed placed his basket down on the counter. ‘I want to buy that chocolate bar. In fact, I want to buy two chocolate bars please. Finish up with this young lady and then you can add the cost to my bill.’
‘Who does that?’ The teenage cashier blinked at him as if Ed had materialised through the wall.
‘Me. I do that,’ he said. ‘May I?’ He sought permission from the boy’s mother who nodded. He squatted down so he was level with the little boy. ‘Let me help you with that. We need to get inside to the good bit, okay?’
The boy regarded him solemnly, holding the chocolate bar close to his chest. Something in Ed’s face must have made him trust as after a moment’s consideration he handed over the bar for Ed to open.
‘Tank you,’ he said.
‘You’re welcome.’ Ed handed the child the unwrapped bar and stood up.
‘Thank you,’ said the mother. ‘Some days are just …’
‘I know,’ he said gently. ‘I get it.’ He chose another bar from the rack and handed it to her. ‘Go home and make yourself a cup of tea; you’ve earned it.’
She gave him a dazzling smile, her eyes suspiciously shiny. Then she collected her groceries and her son, leaving without uttering a word to the cashier who didn’t look bothered by the turn of events in the slightest.
‘This the lot then?’ The cashier loaded Ed’s groceries into a bag.
‘Yep. Don’t forget the chocolate bars.’ He got out his wallet.
‘Nah, don’t worry about it. My dad will never know and if he works it out, I’ll say I ate them. That’s fifteen dollars and sixty-five cents.’
‘I’m curious,’ Ed said as he swiped his card. ‘Why didn’t you just say that before?’
The kid shrugged as he handed Ed the receipt. ‘I’ve caught her stealing in here three times. Gotta draw a line somewhere.’
‘Three times and you haven’t called the police?’
‘She’s got a little kid to take care of, man.’ The boy looke
d at Ed like he’d committed a serious faux pas. ‘I mean, come on.’
Ed shook his head. Obviously he wasn’t the only contradictory creature in town. He picked up his shopping bag. ‘Okay, then. Thanks.’
He was still marvelling over the exchange when he walked into the bakery, and there she was, as if he’d conjured her up by thinking of her.
GoldfieldsGirl, who did indeed look like an older and more beautiful version of her profile picture, stood at the counter talking to a woman in an apron that had seen better days. There was no doubt that it was her.
‘I don’t think it’s going to make a difference,’ she was saying. ‘Maybe in the beginning but things will right themselves; they always do.’
The bakery woman nodded, the look on her face betraying her inner thoughts. Whatever GoldfieldsGirl thought would fix itself was clearly doomed in her eyes.
‘Well, I hope so, Annalisa,’ said the woman. ‘The good thing about being in the food business is that people always get hungry.’ She laughed, as if surprised by her own wisdom.
Annalisa. Her name sounded like flowers and sunshine.
‘Speaking of food, the sausage rolls are nice and hot so you won’t need to heat them up.’ The woman patted a large box sitting on top of the glass counter.
Annalisa closed her eyes. ‘Mmm, they smell scrumptious.’
He watched her face with fascination. She looked exactly as he’d imagined she would although her skin looked creamier and her dark lashes so long they brushed her cheek. Her hair tumbled in a riot of curls down her back, tangling in what looked like fairy wings. Her jeans hugged her bottom, hinting at the curves he’d imagined. Heat flushed across his skin at the thought of what lay beneath the oversized long-sleeved T-shirt.
‘Can I help you?’ A young girl, a carbon copy of the woman serving Annalisa only smaller, appeared from the back of the bakery, wiping her hands on a towel.
Startled out of his reverie, Ed stammered his order. ‘Yeah, um, one pie … a sausage roll … and throw in that pasty too.’
He didn’t need those things. He’d been chasing an apple slice for after his microwave meal. ‘Um, and that too.’ He pointed at the slice, jabbing his finger on the glass, having descended to grunting caveman-like in Annalisa’s presence.
While the young girl put together his order, he continued to eavesdrop on Annalisa’s conversation.
‘Hey, John,’ the woman called out the back. ‘You got Annalisa’s cake there? The one for Luna’s birthday.’
Who was Luna? She’d never mentioned her to him. Maybe she had a kid. The thought brought home the fact he didn’t really know her at all. Maybe she was married or living with someone. It had not occurred to him before now.
He’d been so careful to keep a boundary between the everyday and the personal, not encouraging Annalisa to cross it in any way by giving him intimate details of her life. He’d even avoided giving her his name, all in a misguided effort to stop her from guessing he was an enemy, a paid-up representative of corporate greed.
‘Keep ya hair on.’ John the baker came through the door, bouncing off the frame as if the doorway was too small to accommodate him. He carried a cake box which he handed to his wife. ‘One unicorn cake.’
Annalisa clapped her hands. ‘Can I look?’
‘Go ahead,’ said John. ‘Reckon it’s my best work yet.’ The baker and his wife glowed with the pride of a job well done as Annalisa opened the box and let out a squeal.
‘Oh, it’s perfect. Luna is going to love it.’
‘I reckon you get extra godmother points for that one,’ said the baker’s wife.
Ah! Godmother. That made perfect sense.
His shoulders relaxed down from around his ears and he let out the breath he’d been holding.
‘I’ve got to get it to Mel’s without damaging it. That’s the tricky part.’ Annalisa shut the lid of the box.
As she did so, he realised she had two large boxes to carry.
‘Do you want a hand with that?’ asked John, frowning with what Ed figured was concern for the fate of the unicorn cake.
‘Nope, I’m good. If you could just pop it on top of the sausage rolls, I’ll be right to go.’
Ed watched as Annalisa held the sausage roll box steady and John placed the cake box carefully on top.
‘Are you sure?’ he said.
‘Yep. All good, John, and thanks for everything.’
They all watched as she approached the door, holding back he supposed for the minute she’d realise she couldn’t manage by herself. He waited for John or his wife to make a move. Maybe they knew her better than he did. Maybe she was as stubborn as hell and didn’t want anyone’s help. He didn’t know, but he intended to find out.
‘Here.’ He stepped forward. ‘Let me get that for you.’
In one fluid motion, Ed had the bakery door held wide, standing just close enough to Annalisa to catch the scent of vanilla as she brushed by.
She hesitated. ‘Thank you,’ she said, tipping her face up towards his as the boxes obscured her view. Then she froze.
He looked into those big, brown eyes, like twin pools of liquid chocolate … and drowned.
A gust of wind skipped into the shop, sending the paper napkins on the counter swirling in an eddy and breaking the spell.
‘You’re welcome,’ he said slowly as if every word had to be dredged from the back of his brain, like he’d forgotten how to speak.
She blinked as if he’d startled her awake before turning her attention to stepping over the lintel and out onto the street.
The unicorn cake box tipped dangerously.
Ed lunged for it, preventing it from taking a suicidal leap onto the footpath.
‘I’ve got it!’ he said as she gasped in alarm.
‘Oh my god.’ Annalisa looked pale. ‘I thought for sure it was a goner.’
‘No unicorn will die on my watch,’ he said, regretting the corny line immediately.
Thank god she laughed.
‘I know one girl who will be grateful for your act of gallantry.’ She placed the sausage rolls on the bonnet of her bright yellow Hyundai as she fished her keys out of her handbag. ‘Not including me, of course. My heart is still pounding.’ She fumbled to get the car open. ‘I can’t thank you enough. I wouldn’t have been able to show my face around here again if I’d smashed the cake.’
Without meeting his eyes once, she placed the sausage rolls on the back seat and secured them with a seatbelt. He resisted the urge to smile.
Satisfied they were safe, Annalisa shut the door and turned to face him. Her curls tumbled about her face as the wind tugged them this way and that. He wanted to touch them to see if they were indeed as soft and velvety as they looked. She glanced at the cake and then at him.
‘Oh, sorry.’ He stepped forward and handed her the box. She met his eyes briefly with a smile that shot a bolt of electricity straight to his heart, then her eyes darted back to the box and he felt the light go out. He watched as she secured the cake on the front seat with great care.
‘That’s got to be the safest cake in Australia,’ he joked. ‘It’s even got its own airbag.’
She laughed and Ed felt as if he’d scored an A on an assignment from his favourite teacher.
‘Well,’ she said as she faced him. This was the goodbye bit and he didn’t want her to go. He wanted to find a café somewhere and buy her a cup of coffee, anything to keep her with him a few moments more. ‘I’ve got to get going or I’ll be late.’ She pointed down the road as if he’d know where she had to be.
‘Nice fairy wings,’ he said.
Could he not think of something pithy or clever to say? Was that all he had, inane comments about cake safety and fairy wings? Why didn’t he tell her he was GardenerGuy94? Instead he stood mute, with all the charm of a lump of concrete.
She had the grace to smile at his awkwardness. ‘The things you’ve gotta do, right?’ With a delicate shrug of her shoulder, she turned away from him and go
t in her car. He stood on the side of the road, watching her drive off, taking the sunshine with her.
Annalisa placed a pile of dirty paper plates in the rubbish bin under Mel’s kitchen counter. It had been a long afternoon filled with party games and noise, so much noise that Annalisa’s ears still rang with the delighted squeals of four-year-olds.
She shrugged out of her fairy wings, the elastic having cut off the circulation to her arms hours ago. They were the worse for wear, smeared with chocolate cake and bent out of shape from overenthusiastic hugs. She popped them into the rubbish also.
Mel walked into the kitchen carrying a pile of dirty dishes and got to scraping all the half-eaten food into the bin and stacking the plates in the sink with professional mummy aplomb.
‘I don’t know where you get the energy from.’ Annalisa collapsed onto a kitchen stool. ‘My feet ache, my brain aches, my ears are ringing and my throat is hoarse from shouting to be heard over the horde.’
‘You have to work up to it. Believe me, looking after a baby more than prepares you for the chaos to come.’ Mel smiled and began rinsing a small mountain of tomato sauce off a platter before popping it into the dishwasher. ‘Someone once said to me that every stage of child rearing is as challenging as the last, it’s just that the challenges are different.’
‘Good to know.’ Annalisa slipped off her sneakers and flexed her toes.
‘I’ll put this one to bed.’ Garry, Mel’s husband, padded into the kitchen carrying an exhausted Luna.
‘She should have a bath before she goes down. Look at the state of her.’ Mel planted a kiss on the sleepy girl’s forehead. Luna, her thumb in her mouth and cake in her hair, barely acknowledged her mother’s affection as her eyes drooped.
‘I don’t think she’d stay awake for it,’ said Garry. ‘We can change the sheets in the morning. It’ll be unicorn cake for days.’