by C. J. Duggan
“I mean it about Sean,” she said. “Don’t play with fire.”
“I told you, we’re just friends.”
Mum’s dark blue eyes flicked over my face. “He doesn’t look at you like a friend.”
This time I did walk away, and I made sure I didn’t look back.
***
I all but ran through the automatic hospital doors, breathing in a lungful of fresh air, trying to still the beating of my heart as anger continued to swirl inside me in disbelief. I wiped my eyes. She would not make me cry, she would not make me cry!
I had shed far too many tears these past twenty-four hours.
Enough was enough.
“Amy?”
I swung around, never so happy to see Sean’s friendly face.
“Everything okay?”
“You know, you ask me that a lot.”
“What does that tell you?”
“That it’s time to ‘suck it up, Princess.’”
He shook his head. “I’m not saying a word.”
“Can you take me home?”
“To your mum’s house?”
I turned and strode towards the car. “To Onslow!”
***
Seeing the rolling hills of Perry was a welcome sight. An immense joy swelled inside me as I wound the window down and stuck my head out, closing my eyes and lifting my face up to the sun. I hadn’t told Sean about my mum’s plans to sell. I just wanted to sit with my thoughts, with my own plans. A part of me worried that if I voiced it out loud it would make it all a reality and I couldn’t deal with that, not right now.
Sean tore his eyes briefly from the road to look at me. “Anyone would think you were happy to be home.”
“I am!”
“I bet you’re tired.”
“You would think so, but I actually feel … I don’t know. Strangely upbeat.”
“Give it time, you’ll hit a wall mid-afternoon.”
“Great! Just what I need for Saturday night.”
Sean frowned. “So you’re actually going to open tonight?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I just thought after everything you might want to take it easy.”
I couldn’t afford to lounge around, now more than ever. If the Onslow ran at a loss and turned into the burden Mum believed it was, then there would be no negotiation. Even though I was pretty certain there wouldn’t be much room for negotiation anyway, I had to try.
We pulled into the Onslow in a long semi-circle up the drive. Matt’s car was parked out the front and it looked like the note had been removed from the front door.
“Bloody hell, don’t tell me he’s used some initiative and opened up …” I shook my head.
Sean clenched the steering wheel. “What are you going to do about him?”
I banged my head against the car seat. “He’s gotta go.”
“Do you want me to come in?”
“No, I’ll be all right.”
“What are you going to do tonight? You can’t run the bar on your own.”
I shrugged. “What choice do I have?”
Sean broke into a slow smile.
“What?”
“To think you were perched on that picnic table last night ready to chuck in the towel, and look at you now. Your dad must have said something to you; something’s lit a fire inside you.”
Sean was impressed about my turnaround, as if I had been on some kind of journey of self-discovery and now I was going to take on the world. I had to face reality, and if that meant telling Sean the truth then I knew I could trust him.
I gazed out over the freshly mown, sloping grass embankment that led up to the beautiful, big Onslow Hotel. It was the place of my childhood and my heart ached with the possibility of not wandering through its rooms, perching myself on a stool, or looking out over the lake from the best view in all of Onslow ever again. I smiled sadly at Sean.
“They’re going to sell the Onslow.”
Sean stilled, looking at me with a grave uncertainty as he waited for me to continue.
“Mum thinks it’s a burden, that this place is to blame for Dad’s health. She says they’ve talked it over and reckon it’s for the best to sell.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
I thought about the question. “It makes me want to prove them wrong, show them that it may not have been in the past, but this place could be the best thing that ever happened to us.”
Sean looked past me, his eyes sweeping over the Onslow with the same familiarity mine did. It was then that I noticed that same spark lit his eyes as he looked at me.
“Then let’s see you do it.”
A mutual understanding formed silently between us.
I shifted my focus to Matt’s beat-up Mazda.
“First things first.”
Chapter Seventeen
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Matt sneered at me, his arms crossed in a defensive challenge.
“It’s quite simple: you can either give back the money you stole and then I fire you, or you can just go and I keep what is owed to you. Either way, you’re fired.”
I heard the distant crack of billiards. I had tried to convince Sean that I didn’t need him on standby but he had negotiated himself as merely an early paying customer, playing pool … by himself.
Nothing strange about that …
Matt was not taking my ultimatum well, so the fact that Sean was close by gave me a boost of courage to play hardball. From the moment I walked through the door, Matt had been all sickeningly concerned and fraught with worry over Dad, asking if there was anything he could do. As soon as I mentioned we needed to have a ‘chat’ he snapped into the sneering, glaring douche I had always pegged him for.
“You can’t fire me. You’ve got no proof, sweetheart. Just because you’re the publican’s daughter doesn’t make you Mother-fucking-Superior.”
Okay, that didn’t even make any sense.
I sighed, bored more than threatened.
“This is useless. I’ll just cut my losses and opt for the latter. Forgive me if I don’t offer you a reference.” I hopped down from my stool and made my way around behind the bar.
I could see he was stunned that I had meant what I said. A blackness swept over him and even though Sean was just in the next room, I still felt uneasy.
“Keys?” I held my hand out.
Matt glared daggers at me but I didn’t budge. I looked him directly in the eyes, challenging him.
He delved into his pocket, yanked out his set, and threw them on the bar.
“Here you go, you little bitch, you’re welcome to this fucking cesspool.”
He snatched up his jacket and stormed out of the bar, slamming the front door behind him.
Sean slouched in the alcove of the poolroom, cue in one hand, beer in the other.
“So that went well, then?”
I shook my head. “He didn’t punch me in the face, so yeah. Excellent.”
Sean placed his pool cue aside and flipped out his mobile.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling a locksmith. I wouldn’t take any chances.”
I shivered, looking out of the front window. The dust still hadn’t settled from where Matt had driven off, chucking an almighty burnout in the drive.
“Do you think someone could come out today?”
Sean smiled at his phone. “I think I know just the bloke who can hook us up.”
He lifted his phone and waited. “Ringer! What are you up to?”
***
Ringer downed his beer with impressive speed, smacking his lips together in appreciation. “Thirsty work, that is.”
“So I see.” I arched my brow at Sean who just smiled and winked as he drank from his own glass.
“So just send the bill directly here and I’ll take care of it,” I said.
“Uh …” Ringer paused mid-sip, looking from me to Sean with unease.
“What?
” I looked at Sean who was staring at the ceiling in despair.
Oh, I see. “Sean, you are not paying for this.”
“It’s not like that. Ringer owes me a favour, don’t you, Ringer?”
Ringer put his beer on the bar with deep confusion. “Do I?”
“Jesus H. Christ!” Sean rolled his eyes at the ceiling.
Ringer slowly caught on and finally played his part. “Oh, yeah, yeah, that’s right, from that one time. Yeah, yeah ... I totally owe you big time.” Ringer nodded.
Sean shook his head. “Remind me never to do a bank job with you.”
“What?” Ringer asked incredulously.
“So, gentlemen, if you don’t mind; Ringer, can you please send the bill to me?”
Sean scratched his stubbly jaw and eyed Ringer, who turned to him, holding his hands up in a question.
“You know, I can’t remember you writing anything down,” Sean said, “when you were doing the locks, Ringer.”
Ringer shook his head in fierce agreement. “True, I really have to start getting better at that.”
“Terribly neglectful, our Ringer.”
“It’s true, I am.” Ringer saluted me with his beer.
“This is pathetic,” I said, trying not to smile.
“So I’m guessing,” Sean continued, as if I hadn’t even spoken, “there’s no paper trail then.”
“And without a paper trail…” Ringer added.
“There’s no bill.” Sean looked bitterly disappointed.
I folded my arms. “It doesn’t matter what I do or say, you two are going to conspire against me.”
“Why, whatever do you mean?” Sean asked innocently.
I just shook my head. I was ready to try somehow to convince Ringer to give me the bill, when a figure appeared in the doorway.
“Look out! Here’s trouble,” said an old familiar voice.
Toby Morrison stood in the doorway, taking off his shades and smiling at his two mates. Sean and Ringer spun around, astonished, as if what they saw before them was a mirage.
“Tobias Morrison! How the bloody hell are ya?” Sean leapt off his stool and shook Toby’s hand before pulling him into a bear hug. Ringer flanked his other side and ruffled his hair up.
“When did you get back, you old dog?”
Toby pulled his head away, laughing. “Just now. I saw your cars parked out the front and thought, nothing much changes in Onslow.”
“Yeah, you’re right about that.” Sean slapped him on the back, grinning.
I stood behind the bar, looking on with a broad, goofy smile. It was the first time I’d seen the Onslow Boys together in years – it seemed maybe it had been years since they had been together.
I let them have their boyish reunion and was happy to do so until Toby’s coffee brown eyes passed Sean and rested on me.
“Well, not everything stays the same … little Amy Henderson?” Toby approached the bar with uncertainty.
I blushed. “Not so little anymore.”
Toby looked amazed. “I’ll say.”
Toby opened his mouth to talk but Sean interrupted him. “So where’s Tess at?”
“I dropped her off at her mum and dad’s house so she could freshen up first.”
My ears pricked up. Of course, if Toby was back it meant Tess was, too. I wanted to dance on the balls of my feet with excitement. I hadn’t seen Toby’s girlfriend for years, but we often emailed each other. It was hard to believe that once upon a time I used to be horrible to Tess. She’d been a waitress here – I was fifteen and she was a few years older and helping out my dad for the summer. I cringed at the memories of how I’d behaved. She was the sweetest, kindest person I knew; there was good reason why everyone loved her. When she finished Year Twelve, Toby and Tess moved to Western Australia where he got a great job as a diesel mechanic and Tess went to university. Tess had talked about how they wanted to drive across the Nullarbor and back home one summer, but they never got the chance because they were always working. Well, I guess this summer it finally happened and I was thrilled about it.
“Is Tess coming by later?” I asked hopefully.
“For sure. Actually we kind of hoped we could have dinner here?” Toby looked for a bar menu.
“Oh.” I cringed. “We don’t have meals on at the moment, sorry.”
Toby smiled. “No worries; just means I can flog these blokes on the pool table instead.”
Sean and Ringer cat-called in outrage. “Challenge accepted,” Sean said.
I shook my head, laughing at the familiarity.
“Toby, did you want a drink? On the house.”
“No thanks, Amy, I better get back and see what Tess is up to.”
“Come back around seven, give yourself a chance to warm up before you disgrace yourself on the pool table,” said Sean.
Toby grinned before putting his sunnies back on and heading for the door. “Yep! Nothing changes in Onslow.”
Chapter Eighteen
It was hard to believe that in the last twenty-four hours, I had been to the city and back, fired my sole staff member, and now was looking at opening and operating the bar all on my own.
It was a little overwhelming.
Ringer and Sean left not long after Toby, each having some things to catch up on and no doubt needing to freshen up before they met up with Toby tonight. I wanted to pull Sean aside and talk to him about the whole locksmith bill, but he didn’t give me a chance.
I scrawled ‘Open at six p.m.’ on a piece of paper and stuck it to the door. Figured I’d give myself a chance to freshen up, have a shower, and get ready for the full-on night that was to come. Much to my astonishment, Matt had started restocking the cooler room that morning, so that was one less thing I had to worry about.
My mobile rang when I was in the shower, but a herd of wild horses could not have driven me away from the delicious cascade of water that re-energised me. Covering myself in a towel and my hair up in a turbanesque wrap, I picked up my phone and found one missed call, one voice message. Mum.
“Hi, honey, it’s just me,” she said. “Hope you got back safely. They’re releasing Dad in the morning, so don’t stress. He’s well and will be home soon. Love you and talk to you soon.”
Aside from our rather heated discussion this morning, it was classic Claire Henderson to just forget about what had happened, as if the conversation had never taken place, and we would just go on our merry little way. Until she had some real estate agent goose-stepping through the property with a clipboard, no doubt. I wondered what would happen if Dad demanded she give up her swish town house in the city because it wasn’t ‘financially viable’. What then? I knew she would have a pink fit, that’s what. I couldn’t wait to get Dad on his own – it was my hope that Mum hadn’t managed to brainwash him into believing that selling the Onslow was a good idea. The Dad of old would not have agreed in a million years to sell the pub, but the Dad of new? The hip, gel-in-hair, clean-shaven, metrosexual, post-heart-attack version of Dad? Well, I didn’t entirely know. If there was one thing I agreed with Mum on, though, I wasn’t going to stress him out with my vehement disapproval of selling. Instead, I would let my actions speak louder than words: I would bring the Onslow back to life, prove that it can be financially viable and show them exactly why they shouldn’t sell.
It was four-fifty p.m. and I suddenly felt ill. In a bit over an hour, I was going to open the pub for the first time, and run the bar on my own. On a Saturday night. I couldn’t bear to think about it.
I blow-dried my long, brown hair into sleek, straight strips where it fell midway down my back. Lately I had been sleeves up, scrubbing floors, cleaning windows and drains, scrubbing fridges, and doing little else, but no doubt generally looking like a sweaty feral. But tonight was different. I was going to be the face of the Onslow, the acting manager, so to speak. I wanted to make an effort, to look nice. Decent. Dare I say … sexy? Cringe. I thought of all the reasoning behind my sudden effort in my appearance. But ag
ainst my better judgment, every now and then Sean’s voice kept popping into my head, or a memory of his wicked smile. As I put my mascara on, my mum’s words echoed in my head.
“He doesn’t look at you like a friend…”
I had desperately wanted to ask her to explain herself but it had been more important for me to make my point and walk out. There were moments when something exchanged between Sean and me, I couldn’t deny that, but it was probably just a mutual understanding. He wanted the Onslow to succeed just as much as I did. He had just come back to town and the hotel held a lot of memories for the Onslow Boys. That’s why he was so passionate about helping it thrive; it was for the Onslow. It wasn’t about me.
Ditching the denim shorts and T-shirts that I had been knocking around in lately, I opted for one of the two dressy outfits I had managed to pack: a red halter top and black fitted pants. I adjusted my top in the mirror, hoping it wasn’t too sexy for Onslow standards. Oh God! I had no idea. I needed girl advice, but all I had was a load of boys.
I looked at my phone, chewing on my lower lip. Could I call Tess? I shook the idea away. No, she was probably exhausted and catching up with family; the last thing she would want to do was come here and give me fashion advice. Even if she was coming out later, anyway.
I paced back and forth behind the bar, watching the clock tick down until my palms became sweaty and nervous pains twisted my insides. Ah, screw it! If I didn’t have someone here to distract me I feared I might vomit. I picked up the phone and called the McGee house.
***
Not only was Tess eager to see me, she wholeheartedly agreed to come over and arrived in record time.
“Look at you!” She quick-stepped to me across the car park, her arms wide open. She pulled me into a huge hug. “You’re so tall!”
She looked me over and hugged me again. “You are so beautiful, Amy. Gosh, I’ve missed you!”
Tess hadn’t changed a bit. Her golden hair twisted in natural waves to her shoulders, her eyes a beautiful greeny-blue Her petite stature made me feel like a giant Amazon woman next to her.
“Thanks for coming,” I said lamely.
“I was so happy you called. Where is everybody?” She looked around the pub, studying her surroundings.