‘Okay, but first, how are the sales?’
‘Good, and that’s all I’m saying. I forbid you to think about business stuff till tomorrow.’ Belinda ushered April towards the door. ‘Go get drunk.’
Ain’t gonna happen. April never had more than one or two drinks at a time, and only a few times a month, if that. She kept silent. She hadn’t discussed her father’s alcoholism with her employee; there was no reason to. They’d become like friends since she hired her four months ago, as they weren’t exactly shy, making it easy to get to know each other. But some things were best kept private.
April stepped out onto the sun-speckled sidewalk, the aromas whooshing away like they’d been sucked into a vacuum. She walked up the road, around a few corners, and into her street. As she neared her house, she noticed a white ute parked outside the house next door, and several boxes piled up on the front porch.
So the new neighbour is finally here.
She slowed down, seeing if she could get a glimpse of the person. But the door was shut and the curtains drawn. She hesitated before walking towards her front steps, wondering if she should knock on the door and welcome them to the street.
Why not?
Impulsivity was her strong point. She blamed it on being an Aries. Not that she really believed in all that horoscope stuff.
Oh, hang on. I should bring a gift or something. She should have brought a candle from her store. Maybe she could go grab one from her house. April lifted the bag she was carrying. Or …
She withdrew the fruit-and-nut chocolate her aunt had given her, and always gave her, for some reason. Bless her little mistaken soul. April didn’t have the heart to let her know the truth after all these years. Somehow she thought that April liked it. But really, if one was going to have chocolate why would one spoil it with such healthy things as fruit and nuts? Yep, she could give it to the neighbour. Maybe they liked healthy chocolate.
April wandered up the pebbled pathway and onto the porch, vaguely aware of the scent of paint; the weatherboard panels had recently been painted an eggshell colour by the previous owners before selling the property. Her sense of smell had heightened since starting up the candle business; assessing various aromas was now part of her job.
She knocked on the door and waited, the chocolate in her hand. Hopefully they didn’t think she was going to give them the gift bag with her own presents. She really liked the Belgian chocolates and swirly patterned scarf her mother had given her. And hopefully they wouldn’t be able to tell that the fruit-and-nut chocolate was a reject gift.
Who would answer the door? Probably a lonely old man, a widower, and maybe he would hook up with Nancy Dillinger on the other side of April’s house and have a love affair. It would give Nancy something to do apart from peering through her curtains. Or perhaps the neighbour was another medical professional like Sylvia Greene who lived two houses up, and they would walk to work together and discuss difficult cases. But it was probably an old man, the ute looked like it had seen its fair share of use, and more and more elderly people were moving to the town these days.
She thought she heard footsteps, but then only silence.
Should she knock again? Maybe the old man was hard of hearing.
Nah. She left the chocolates on the doorstep and scribbled a note on a scrap of paper from her bag—Welcome to the neighbourhood. From Number 3. She added a smiley face.
When she went inside her house, she patted Romeo, her grey tabby cat, refilled his food bowl in the laundry, then peered out the kitchen window. The neighbour’s kitchen window was directly opposite, but the venetian blinds were closed. On the back deck was a reclining timber chair that hadn’t been there before. One chair, not two. Most likely a single occupant, as she’d thought. Wind chimes hung from the deck ceiling, thin, cylindrical metal rods surrounding a yin-yang symbol made from wood.
What person moves into a new house and hangs up wind chimes before unpacking the important things?
Then again, if April moved house again, she’d probably unpack the candles right away and base her furniture arrangements on where she wanted each particular candle.
She gave up her surveillance and flopped on the couch to check her birthday messages on her phone.
Hope all your wishes come true! many of the messages said.
Wishes. What would she wish for if wishes came true?
She stared at the ceiling for a moment, as though tiny stars would magically appear and one would shine bright, urging her to wish upon it.
Apart from the obvious wishes people would choose—peace, more money, perfect health—she couldn’t make up her mind about what she wanted. After last week’s non-existent date, she knew what she didn’t want, and that was a start. Yes, she would make anti-wishes instead.
Anti-wish #1: No more money worries.
Anti-wish #2: No more accepting free samples from the bakery near April’s Glow—in other words; no more unnecessary weight gain and sugar comas.
Anti-wish #3: No more unreliable men. Actually, no more men. At least for the rest of the year.
There.
‘May my anti-wishes come true …’ she whispered to herself. Romeo sashayed over and pounced onto her lap, meowing and looking at her with his big glossy eyes.
‘Okay, Romeo, I’ll make an exception just for you. You’re my number one man.’
He curled into a ball and purred in satisfaction, then flinched as a door slammed shut next door.
* * *
‘Damn. Where’s my doorstopper?’ Zac Masterson asked himself, as the loud sound put his reflexes on high alert. He rummaged through boxes and sighed, then kicked off his boots, reopened the front door, and propped them against it. Cool afternoon air rushed into the dim house. His new home. Now that the nosy neighbour had gone inside he could get back to setting things up in peace. No interruptions, no distractions. He wasn’t ready for being sociable, not yet.
He stepped out on the porch and almost trod on something. Glancing down, his eyebrows rose at the sight of a block of chocolate with a note attached. He picked it up and read it, a tiny smile tugging at his lips.
He glanced next door to Number Three; a red brick house most likely built in the sixties, with a weathered timber fence separating the property from his. He’d hid in the bedroom when he’d heard the knock. Hopefully the person thought he was out, picking up supplies, or maybe in the bathroom. Or maybe they even thought he was deaf. He’d been tempted to peer out the bedroom window to catch a glimpse of his new neighbour, but resisted. No doubt he’d see the mystery person soon. Maybe it was a woman with a husband and kids, though he hadn’t noticed any play equipment in the backyard. Or maybe an elderly person like the woman he’d seen in the next house up, looking out her front window. Although he hadn’t seen her close up, her grey hair had contrasted with the bright yellow curtains she held aside.
Anyway, it didn’t matter. He was here to keep to himself, get through what he had to get through, and figure out his next steps. People would only complicate things.
He opened the fruit-and-nut chocolate and popped a couple of squares in his mouth. Not bad. He hadn’t had chocolate for ages.
Effortlessly carrying the boxes inside, Zac mentally planned where things needed to go. The house was bigger than he was used to. He could live in a tent and have all he needed, but he had more space now, more luxuries, and he planned to make the most of it.
As he carried the last box in, he caught sight of a kid riding a bike past his house. Automatically, he checked the road to make sure no cars were about to swerve around the corner; then, satisfied the kid was safe, he went inside and closed the door, locking it.
He stood in the centre of the living room, staring at the empty fireplace that he planned to fill with firewood over the coming months as autumn merged into winter. A memory of sitting around a campfire with friends intruded on his mind. Friends. Most were long gone now. Here he was, in a new town, starting all over again like a kid in a new school. But
he wasn’t ready to make friends. In time, perhaps. He knew he couldn’t continue this way forever, but for now, solitude was his best mate.
Zac glanced at his laptop charging in the corner on the floor. As it often did, inspiration hit him unexpectedly, so he sat on the floor and opened his computer. He clicked the web browser and opened his anonymous blog: Winning The War Within.
Words formed in his mind and he typed quickly:
BIRD IN A CAGE
I know I should be living out there
Interacting and doing my share
But it’s easier somehow to go it alone
No one around, no ringing phone.
Sometimes I get a glimpse of an alternate life
I’d have a job and friends, maybe even a wife
But as fast as the glimpse appears it dissolves
And I return to the words around which my life now revolves.
The words they are comfort, companion, and friend
They make sense of the chaos, the grief they mend
But I know these words must come to life; be born
To give flight to the bird, its cage must be torn.
He read through it a couple of times then clicked ‘publish’. The last line lingered in his mind …
One day he would fly again, metaphorically speaking. He didn’t know when, he didn’t know how. But he hoped—wished—that somehow he would find the strength to tear down the bars of his cage and set himself free.
Chapter 3
‘Don’t forget to make a wish! Ready?’ Olivia placed the cake on April’s outdoor table, her hand creating a curved barrier between the flaming candles and the night air.
‘Ha! I’ve actually made anti-wishes,’ April replied.
‘Anti-wishes? What kind of weirdo are you?’ said Zoe, one of her oldest friends—she’d known her since primary school.
‘Takes one to know one.’ April winked, and Zoe blew her an air kiss. The happiness of their friendship was directly proportional to the severity of their fake insults.
‘Well, whatever you want to wish for or not wish for, get ready, time to sing happy birthday!’ Olivia was used to running birthday parties, having had eight years of experience with her daughter, Mia. April wouldn’t be surprised if she whipped out a game of pass the parcel or pin the tail on the donkey. Or maybe she’d broken with tradition and hired a surprise stripper. That would be one hell of a way to welcome the new neighbour to the street, trying to sleep to the sounds of tipsy women laughing and talking loudly over hyped-up music and watching the shadow of a gyrating muscular male through the living room window.
Nancy next door would probably like it though. She might even join the party.
But no, she was sure Olivia hadn’t planned such a surprise. And her cousin, Lisa, who sat demurely opposite her, holding her wine glass with her careful, dainty fingers, was more of a quiet, reserved type.
Zoe snapped a photo as the candles warmed April’s face and the scent of wax drifted up to her nose. April smiled, then for the second photo, stuck out her tongue and squished her cheeks together. It was her birthday tradition, to have a funny-face photo for every birthday, ever since she’d done one in high school with Zoe, who had suggested repeating it each year.
When she returned her focus to the cake, she caught a flash of movement to her right. One of the sheer curtains framing the neighbour’s kitchen window billowed. The venetian blinds were slightly open. Maybe he’d seen her wacky birthday pose and wondered what he’d gotten himself into, becoming this crazy person’s neighbour. She also wondered if he’d seen her earlier, setting up the outdoor table with her candles. She’d rearranged them about five times before she was happy with the layout. Then she’d remembered she was at home and not at work and didn’t have to be such a perfectionist about her display abilities to impress the customers.
April swayed as her friends sang ‘Happy Birthday’.
‘Hip-hip-hooray! Hip-hip-hooray!’
April reviewed her anti-wishes in her mind, then blew out the candles. Bar one.
‘You must be too old. Can’t blow all of the candles out in one hit.’ Zoe chuckled.
‘Hey, you’re six months older than me,’ April replied.
‘I get the feeling you’re going to keep holding that over me, right up to when we share a room in a nursing home one day.’
‘Who says I’m going to share with you? I might share a room with the resident hottie.’
‘I might be married to the resident hottie.’
‘Ladies! Your candle, April.’ Olivia pointed sharply to the cake. She wouldn’t put it past her to blow it out on her behalf and say, ‘There, all done. Happy birthday! Now let’s play a game’.
April thought about what she actually would like for the year ahead … oh why not?
I wish for a year of business success, and happy, memorable moments.
There. Not too specific. A general wish. She blew out the remaining candle and her eyes flicked up to the sound of the neighbour’s window closing.
‘Somebody doesn’t appreciate our singing,’ said Zoe.
‘Hey, speak for yourself!’ Olivia placed her hands on her hips.
Guess the guy’s not deaf after all.
Lisa smiled and observed. Small talk wasn’t her thing. She only spoke when there was something to say. But when she did speak, it was either a hilarious one-liner, or something profound and helpful. April would never forget how her cousin had comforted and supported her, back when her life had taken an unexpected detour. And the pink candle-in-a-jar that sat on her bedside table, given as a gift by Lisa to lift April’s spirits, was what had sparked the idea for opening a candle store and starting her life over. She owed a lot to Lisa.
‘Have you met your neighbours yet?’ Zoe cocked her head towards the house.
April shook hers. ‘I think there’s only one person. See—one chair on the deck. And there’s a ute out front. Probably an old guy.’ She picked up her one-and-only glass of wine and lifted it to her lips; the crisp, grapey scent taking over the aroma of the citronella candles.
‘Could be a couple, and they might share the deck chair in a loving embrace.’ Zoe spoke with a flourish.
‘Half their luck,’ Olivia mumbled.
Lisa cleared her throat. It was like a proverbial drumroll … Lisa’s going to speak! ‘Or, maybe they had two chairs but one broke because they had more than just a loving embrace on it.’
Wine spurted from April’s mouth and narrowly missed the cake. Zoe guffawed and Olivia giggled. ‘Oh God, Lisa, you’re a hoot!’ April laughed.
Lisa shrugged as if her suggestion was a completely plausible explanation for the solitary chair.
‘Here you go, Ape,’ said Zoe, handing her the kitchen knife. ‘Slice it up and make another anti-wish?’
‘Seriously, I’m thirty-three, I think you can stop calling me Ape now.’ She took the knife and positioned the tip at the centre of the chocolate mud cake, then slid a glance back at Zoe. ‘Zooey.’
‘Hey, I know we had that whole discussion back in school about you being an ape and me belonging in a zoo, and seriously, Ape suits you. But Zooey? It’s just not funny anymore.’
‘As long as you call me Ape I’ll call you Zooey.’ She slid the knife through the cake in one smooth motion. She forgot to make another wish, or anti-wish, but the knife touched the bottom anyway, which meant her anti-wish would be void. Not that she believed in superstitions.
She cut four slices and, as promised earlier, handed Olivia the biggest slice.
As they dug into the rich, dense cake, April dug deep inside her heart to unearth some much-needed hope. She’d be okay. She was okay. She had built her strength back up in the last two years, both emotionally and physically. And she had two close friends, a great employee, a cousin who was more like a sister, her mother, and Lisa’s mum, Aunt Susie. And of course there was Dad. Though he wasn’t there for her much, he was still around. She still had a father. She had a lot more than many ot
her people. But she had also lost a lot more than other people.
Before April allowed herself to remember the past, Zoe lifted a glass of wine. ‘A toast!’ April lifted hers, as did Olivia and Lisa. ‘To April, and a year of amazing business success, laughter and happiness, and … what else?’
‘Um …’ Olivia tilted her head towards the starlit sky.
Zoe raised her glass even higher. ‘And a hot, passionate fling with a gorgeous man who has a body to die for!’
Olivia and Lisa clinked their glasses to Zoe’s but April hesitated. ‘Um, yeah maybe not that last one, Zooey.’
‘Why not, Ape?’
‘Too complicated.’ She flicked her free hand in a dismissive wave. ‘I’m not ready for complicated.’
‘Who says it has to be complicated?’ Zoe replied.
Complicated. Why did it have to be? It hadn’t been before. At least in the beginning. Meet a guy, fall in love, get engaged, and then … well, that’s when things had gotten complicated. If things had turned out differently that unforgettable day, she’d now be married to Kyle living the life she had planned. But life could change in an instant, and the thought of giving love a chance again after all she’d been through was exhausting. The non-existent date last weekend had been the sign, even though she didn’t believe in signs. Though two and a half years had passed, it was still too soon.
But she clinked her glass against Zoe’s and the others’ anyway. ‘To uncomplicated,’ she said.
‘To uncomplicated!’ they chorused.
* * *
The next morning, April let Romeo outside and left his water and food bowl on the back deck. He scooted off with enthusiasm and dashed into the nearest bush, then dashed back out of it and leapt onto the bird bath, balancing precariously on the thin edge, dipping his paw in tentatively and trying to scoop some of the water up. No matter how many water bowls she left around for him, he always preferred to find his own source whenever possible—in the garden, the kitchen sink, and the shower or bathtub.
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