An Endless Summer

by C. J. Duggan

  “Looks great.”

  “Wow! High praise indeed.”

  Sean reached down into an esky by his feet, his hand delving into the icy recess, and produced a cold stubby and held it out to me. Condensation dribbled down the sides.

  “Want one?”

  I eyed it sceptically.

  Sean rolled his eyes. “Relax, I bought it from you. Put money on top of the till and everything. Bought ice from the servo; I’m a paying customer, I promise.”

  “Our only customer,” I said. I closed the distance and took the cold stubby from his grasp. My fingers brushed his and I was unnerved by how that made me not want to meet his gaze.

  “Thanks.”

  I stepped up and sat on the opposite side of the table, not too close.

  “The lawns look good.” Sean took a sip of his beer.

  I turned to see the freshly cut grass and whipper-snipped edges.

  “I hadn’t even noticed.”

  “No, you were too busy sad sacking it up the drive.”

  “I was thinking,” I said defensively.

  Sean shook his head. “You think too much.”

  “Yeah, well some of us have to do the thinking for everyone.” I spotted Matt through the hotel window, doing nothing more than slouching against the bar and laughing at the TV. My brows narrowed as I took a long sip of beer.

  Sean followed my line of vision. “What’s the go with him?”

  “My dad, in all his wisdom, put him in charge.”

  “I see.”

  “I suppose you’re going to tell me what a great bloke he is and that Dad was right to trust him with the Onslow?”

  “Not at all. I wouldn’t put him in charge of a lucky dip.”

  I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

  “Well, there’s a sound I haven’t heard in a long time.”

  “Yeah, well, there isn’t a whole lot to laugh about these days,” I said. I picked at the label on my stubby, keeping my fingers busy.

  Sean finished off the last of his beer in a long skull before getting up and chucking it in the nearby bin.

  “How old are you now, Amy?” he asked. “Eighteen?”

  I straightened. “Nineteen.”

  He nodded, in deep thought. “So you’re nineteen, it’s Friday – soon to be Friday night – and you’re basically the gatekeeper of the local pub and yet there’s nothing to laugh about?”

  “It’s a burden,” I said, “not a never-ending party.”

  Sean sealed the lid on his esky and tapped it into place.

  “Well, that’s because you’re not doing it right.”

  “So what? What would your advice be, hmm? Invite some friends over, get hammered, have a lock-in and pash someone in a dark alcove somewhere?”

  Sean smiled and exposed a brilliant line of straight, white teeth. “Exactly.” He gathered his esky and started to walk towards his car.

  “See you tonight, Henderson. I’ll be the one loitering in a dark alcove somewhere,” he teased.

  “Very funny.”

  Sean reversed his ute and flipped his sunnies into place before flashing one last smile at me and pulling out onto the road. He sounded the horn in two quick toots.

  See you tonight?

  Shit! Tonight? Friday night.

  Much to my horror and regardless of whether the hole was now fixed, the weekend had arrived and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

  ***

  We had no cook, no wait staff, one half-hearted bartender, and me. I prayed for a quiet night in the bar, but it was not to be. Somehow the mid-week scaffolding, the doors being closed, lawns mowed and the mumblings of a DIY project had piqued the locals’ interest. Seemed they’d got to thinking the Onslow was undergoing renovations. I guess it kind of was, seeing as though you could now walk around the bar room without your feet sticking to the floor. You could even lean against the bar without wetting your arm on putrid, soggy, stale beer mats. You could see through the jukebox glass to select songs now that I’d wiped the weeks, possibly months, of grubby fingerprints away. If anyone asked for a beer now, chances were it was actually stocked and cold. I had made a mad dash to the supermarket to grab some boxes of salted nuts and potato chips. I figured maybe it would hold off endless questions about non-existent dinners.

  I found the chalk on a shelf behind the bar and wrote on the restaurant blackboard and bar menu: New and improved menu coming soon. It was an utter lie, I had only just gotten past stocking the cool room and making sure things were clean in the bar. I wasn’t ready to tackle the kitchen and restaurant yet. I hadn’t even dared to wander out and check the state of the beer garden. I made sure the doors were locked; for now, it was all off limits. It had to be.

  My stomach fluttered with nerves as a large group of young locals poured through the door and made a beeline for the bar. Matt struggled to keep up with their orders. I jumped the bar and chipped in with pouring drinks. I made sure not one glass remained empty, something Dad had instilled in me. Never leave a glass empty. I worked fast and hard, which seemed to rub off on Matt, much to my surprise.

  After an empty week, the Onslow filled up at the end of the work day. We literally ran from one end of the bar to the other, criss-crossing from the main bar up to serve drinks in the poolroom. I scooted along, holding three beers in my hands and propping them on the bar top.

  I tapped into the cash register. “That will be seven dollars fifty.”

  A twenty-dollar bill hung in my peripheral vision and I grabbed it, ready to make the quick exchange, but as I pulled it, it refused to give and my eyes darted up to meet Sean’s. He grinned down at me. He held the twenty dollars in a vice-like grip and I tugged harder, smirking.

  He let go of the bill. “Smile, Amy.” He gathered the beers with ease in his large hands. “The Onslow is back in business.”

  I worked quickly to deposit the twenty dollars. “Hey, don’t forget your change.”

  “Keep it,” he said. “Consider it a tip for a job well done.” He winked before turning towards the pool table.

  There was no time to debate the point. A sea of arms waving money meant thirsty patrons. Maybe we’d be all right after all.

  Adrenalin carried me through. Sean was right, we were busy and the money flowed in. Matt and I struggled to keep up, but we did. We even exchanged a few smiles, exhilarated by the buzz of the room, the music on the jukebox. The Onslow was alive again, and my hopes soared. Maybe I had been overwhelmed at first because I hadn’t been back to Onslow for years. I had been living in our beige, modern town house in the city, so of course it was a shock to come back. Now, Matt was finally pulling his weight, picking up the challenge when I needed him most – perhaps I had been too quick to judge and all I needed was to give him a chance.

  I was about to turn the corner into the main bar to tell Matt that he was doing a great job and to take a ten-minute break, when I saw him working the cash register with expert fingers. I smiled and went to call out to him over the music, when I saw him, with just as much expertise and quick fingers, slip a twenty-dollar bill from the till into his back pocket. It was so fast I almost missed it. I would have thought I had imagined it if it wasn’t for the way he looked behind him and started to whistle nervously.

  My heart sank: any hopes that had been lifted tonight crashed down with an almighty thud. Matt walked towards me as if only just noticing me.

  “Bloody hell, I don’t know about you but I’m knackered.”

  “Yeah, me too.” I said with a half smile . “Hey, listen, do you mind if I take a break? I just need some fresh air.”

  “Sure, I’ve got it.”

  I bet you do, you sly thief!

  Without a word, I walked from behind the bar like a zombie. I zigzagged my way through the crush, and pushed my way through the door out into the summer night, fighting the tears that wanted to fall.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I was well aware of the irony.

  I left Matt alone in th
e bar while I sat on the picnic table outside in the garden, while he no doubt robbed us blind.

  I just had to get out of there, though. The disappointment that rolled off me was palpable, each drawn-in breath became tighter and my hopelessness threatened to drown me.

  I couldn’t do this.; I would have to ring Dad first thing and tell him what was going on, that this just wasn’t working. And then, I remembered the excitement in his voice about surprising Mum with a holiday. Hell, he had probably already done so by now. I checked my Baby-G watch: eleven p.m. Yep, they would be celebrating and making plans by now.

  I rested my elbows on my knee and cupped my hands in my face.

  How was I going to tell him?

  How was I going to break it to him that the one person he had trusted to run the Onslow in his absence had, instead, run it further into the ground and was stealing from him.

  The picnic table was off to the side and mostly hidden by bushes, so I had hoped for a moment’s privacy to collect my thoughts away from the drunken revellers. But when I heard the high-pitched giggle and voices approach, it was clear someone else had had the same idea.

  “Oh my gosh! Did you really fix this?” a high-pitched chipmunk voice cooed.

  “Yes, ma’am. Some fine craftsmanship indeed.”

  Oh, hell no!

  I peeked through the bush as dread seeped into every fibre of my body. I knew that voice. And, sure enough, there he stood, all six foot three of him, beer in one hand, arm slung around some blonde bimbo.

  This was not happening.

  I shrank back and scooted as far back on the table as I could manage, hoping not to be seen.

  A tremor of anger ran through me. I was annoyed at my parents, at Matt and at Melba, but mostly I was furious at myself. How had I thought I could save this sinking ship all by myself? And, more importantly, why did I even want to? There was nothing here for me now. Any friends, any fond memories I’d had, had drowned that night in Lake Onslow. I wiped at a tear that dribbled down my cheeks, a tear that made me angrier at how stupid I was for letting everything get to me, and the angrier I got, the more emotional I became.

  “I bet you’re really good with your hands,” the blonde bimbo crooned.

  I felt sick.

  Blondie pulled Sean off the verandah and led him along the drive. Their feet crunched underfoot as they came into view, clearly lit by the lights that flooded out through the windows of the hotel.

  Sean’s arm was slung over her petite frame again. I didn’t want to watch this. I slid my hand sideways to give myself leverage off the table, when a rough splinter jammed into my finger.

  “Shit!” I cried out in pain. The sharp stab was all I needed for the tears to flow. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Sean and Blondie stopped still, turned back, and peered into the darkness. Sean stepped forward, his arm still around the girl’s shoulders. He frowned … “Amy?”

  Oh, fuck! Go away.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yep!”

  No.

  “Fine, thanks.” I tried to keep my voice even, but it was so not working.

  Sean’s arm fell away from the girl and he left her in the drive and closed the distance towards me.

  “Hey!” she pouted, hands on her hips in annoyance.

  “Hang on a sec,” Sean said, without looking back.

  I squeezed my finger, trying to prevent the throbbing sting. I turned my body away from him, hoping that he would just leave.

  “Amy?”

  “Go away.”

  “What’s going on?” His voice was low, gentle.

  “Nothing, please just leave me alone.”

  I felt the table dip next to me.

  Yeah, that really worked.

  His hand grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him, revealing my shiny, bloodshot eyes to the light.

  I swallowed hard. “I’m fine.”

  “I can see that.” His eyebrows were furrowed. “You going to tell me what this is all about?”

  My chin trembled and I held up my hand. “I have a splinter.”

  God, I was pathetic.

  Sean’s eyes bored into me as if he was waging on whether I was seriously crying over a splinter or not.

  “Seeeeaaaaaaaaaan!” a long whiny cry came from Blondie. “Are we going yet?”

  “In a minute,” Sean said, turning back to face her. “Hey, how about you go grab us some takeaways?” He reached into his back pocket.

  This seemed to work as she strode over, snatched the money from Sean, shot me a parting death stare, and hobbled on her high heels back inside.

  With her gone, Sean focused his attention back on me. “Let me see.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me closer, turning it towards the light. “I think you’ll live, it’s not that deep.” He half smiled at me. He held my gaze as he pulled my hand to his mouth. “Hold still.”

  The words whispered onto my flesh and my eyes widened as his lips covered my finger, his teeth gently nipping at my flesh and, with the slightest of pressure, he sucked the splinter shard out of my finger. I watched on in frozen awe as he lowered my finger, now free from the shard. It was so insanely intimate, all tears and self-pity had been wiped from my mind, until he broke the silence.

  “So, are you going to tell me what’s really wrong?”

  I tore myself away from his gaze and looked out into the dark. He tilted his head, getting into my line of vision to try to coerce me to look at him.

  “Come on, I just saved you from losing a finger, the least you could do is tell me what’s got you so worked up. I thought you’d be happy; the place is jumping like the days of old.”

  I shook my head, emotions threatening to spill over the edge. I hated being so vulnerable, especially in front of Sean.

  “I can’t do it. It’s too massive. It’s too big; I was kidding myself to think I could fix this place by myself.”

  I could feel Sean’s eyes burning into my profile. I thought he would never speak; his silence obviously meant I was right. This wasn’t for me – what did I know about renovations and running a pub? The sooner I just let it go and went back to the city, the better.

  “It is massive,” Sean agreed. “Undeniably it’s tough and unrelenting and monotonous and endless.” Each word was like a nail in the coffin, cementing my decision.

  Sean grabbed my elbow and forced me to look into his serious eyes.

  “And if it was anyone else they wouldn’t stand a chance, but it’s not anyone else; it’s you.”

  I shook my head, the only thing I could do to show him how wrong he was.

  “It’s you, Amy. You know this place, you are this place. The Onslow stands because the Hendersons built it, made it. And although it seems like it’s going to be a miserable, endless summer …”

  He stood up. “Just hold on, okay? You can do this, Amy.”

  Our eyes locked and something passed between us, as a long, lingering silence washed over us. The intense silence was quickly shattered by a high-pitched voice.

  “Woooo, I got stollies, babe.”

  Sean turned and caught the stumbling blonde girl.

  Any moment shared and all meaningful words spoken now seemed null and void, as Sean looked at me, embarrassed.

  “You going to be all right?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” I tried my best to smile. “Thanks, Sean.”

  He opened his mouth to reply, but the blonde pulled him away.

  They peeled away into the darkness, their silhouettes swallowed up by the night. Just when I thought Sean’s kind words had soothed me into rising above my situation, somehow, as I stared off after them, I had never felt more miserable.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I couldn’t bear to look at him.

  I was lucky if I mumbled two words to Matt for the rest of the night. Come time to close up, I gave him the task of ushering people out and was fast to close the door behind him.

  He stared at me from the other side of the glass and looked at me like
I was an alien.

  “Don’t you want help cleaning up?”

  “No. I’ll do it.”

  “So, no staff drinks then?”

  “No.” And with that, I deadbolted the door and pressed my back against it with a relieved sigh. I should have really made him stay, made him earn his keep, but I just couldn’t stand being in the same room as him.

  I pushed myself wearily off the door and trudged around the bar, lowering all the blinds and collecting empty pints, shots, cocktail, and pot glasses along the way. Dumping my stack on the bar, I worked on rolling up the damp beer mats and emptying ashtrays into the bottom foot tray near the stools.

  A loud series of knocks pounded on the front door and my mood darkened. It was either some drunk begging for a last-minute takeaway slab of VB or, worse, Matt had come back. I was betting on the latter. They pounded on the door again, this time harder. I was not in the mood for this. I stomped to the front door, unbolted the deadbolts in a rage and whipped open the door.

  “I said no …”

  My words cut off; I stared like a stunned mullet as my eyes flicked from a wall of chest up to meet the bemused smirk of Sean.

  “What’s that you were saying?”

  “What are you doing here?”

  I looked around him, waiting for the shrill voice of his earlier companion, but she was nowhere in sight.

  He was alone. Maybe he’d forgot something. My weary eyes looked back up at him.

  “Can I come in?”

  I stepped aside, allowing him to brush past me. I deadbolted the door after him and turned off the main outside light.

  I tried to keep my voice even and matter-of-fact as I returned to cleaning up. “Where’s your date?”

  Sean pulled up a stool and watched me with interest. “Date?”

  I rolled my eyes as I unloaded a new stack of glasses onto the bar next to him. “The pouty blonde who was admiring your handiwork, amongst other things I’m sure,” I mumbled under my breath.

  I couldn’t stop the snarky words that tended to fall out of my mouth around him. I shouldn’t have even acknowledged anything; I mean, what did I care who he was with? I started loading the dirty pots onto the dishwashing rack.