Through her sobs and sniffles, he finally made out her words.
‘No, darling, I’m not okay.’
Harry looked at Claire who sat unsmiling at the table, staring ahead at nothing. Her eyes glistened.
‘Claire-Bear?’ He used his sister’s childhood nickname and watched as tears filled her eyes then rolled down her cheeks. ‘Come here, sis,’ he said, opening his other arm for her. She finally lifted her eyes to look at him, then stood and joined them in the middle of the kitchen for a group hug. In the corner, Digby stirred. Harry swore he was crying too.
‘I’m so glad you’re home, Harry,’ Claire said with a sniffle. ‘We need your help.’
Chapter 7
On Christmas Eve, Eddie loaded her car with every box of decorations she could find in her grandparents’ garage and headed to the Memorial Hall. To keep her mind off Jarrod and the tears at bay, she cranked the car stereo up loud and sang along at the top of her lungs. She couldn’t hold a note, but singing was cathartic and right now Christmas carols were the perfect way to express her alternating grief and anger. Her heart sped. How was she going to tell everyone? It was no secret she’d been waiting for the day Jarrod finally proposed. She pictured their faces – they’d be so disappointed. Disappointed for her, but also for themselves. The locals always loved a wedding.
When she arrived at the hall, she glanced at her reflection in the rear-view mirror and grimaced. She hadn’t slept well and her eyes were still puffy. Despite arguing with herself that she was stupid for settling for Jarrod simply because she was desperate for marriage and a family, she’d still vacillated between floods of tears and fits of anger. Anger at Jarrod for breaking up with her, then anger at herself for letting him walk all over her for so long.
She blamed everything on her biological clock. Ever since Aimee had dragged her kicking and screaming to a catch-up earlier in the year with some girls from university, it had been ticking extra loudly. So loudly, Eddie wished she could remove the batteries. She had discovered most of her old nursing classmates were either married with babies in tow or glowingly pregnant. Coming back from the loo, she overheard someone comment that if Eddie left it much longer she’d need to think about freezing her eggs.
Eddie gripped the steering wheel tighter as the memory bit hard. Freezing her eggs! For crying out loud, she was turning thirty-five this year, not forty-five. She still had oodles of time to find another man and pop out a couple of babies. Didn’t she?
She peeked in the mirror again. How was it possible that in a few short hours tiny lines had appeared around her lips and eyes? She rolled her shoulders and forced her mouth to relax.
If the clock strikes twelve, the cock crows and the wind changes, your face will be stuck like that. It was her nan’s favourite saying.
Right now it wasn’t Nan Eddie was worried about. If she didn’t put on a happy face, everyone would spot she’d been crying from a mile away and want to know what was wrong, if they hadn’t already heard. Once the gossip had done the rounds, the locals would be quick to tell her someone else would come along and that she just had to be patient. She wouldn’t hold her breath.
Eddie turned into the grassy car park outside the hall, pulled on the handbrake and put the lid on her hurt. Grabbing one of the boxes from the boot of her car, she took off across the dried grass to the hall, determined not to think about Jarrod again. It took her three trips until her car was empty of decorations. Dumping the last of the boxes on the floor, she surveyed the room.
‘Hey, Lise,’ she called out. ‘Where’s Aimee?’ Aimee had promised she’d be there to help.
Lisa Kane, one of Eddie’s work colleagues and a good friend, grimaced as she came over. ‘I’m not sure you want to know.’
Eddie’s smile slipped. ‘What?’
‘Chicken pox.’
‘What do you mean? Aimee’s got chicken pox?’ Eddie’s heart skidded. ‘Wait. Hang on. That can’t be right. I distinctly remember we shared chicken pox when we were ten. My skin still itches with the memory.’
‘She doesn’t. Grace and Nash do,’ Lisa said.
‘Tell me you’re joking.’ Why hadn’t Aimee called her?
‘I wish I was.’
‘But she’s supposed to help me with the decorations!’
‘I’d say she’s busy right now. Probably up to her armpits in calamine lotion and Pinetarsol baths.’
Eddie winced. ‘True. I’ll give her a call and see if she needs any help. Poor kids. The decorations can wait.’
‘I can do them for you.’
‘Is that okay?’
‘Happy to help.’
Eddie gave her a hug. ‘Thanks heaps. I really appreciate it.’ She pointed to the cardboard boxes she’d left near the door. ‘The decorations are over there. If you could put them on the tree, I’ll get started on the tables.’ She scanned the room and frowned. ‘I thought we’d have more helpers here.’
Pam Carter, the wife of the local pharmacist, stopped folding serviettes and pushed her glasses up her nose. ‘Your grandmother normally gets it all done first thing in the morning. When you didn’t show up earlier, most people didn’t hang around. It is Christmas Eve, Edwina, and people are busy, you know.’
The older woman was known for her bluntness, and although she was probably right, her rebuke still stung. Eddie shrugged it off and smiled politely at Pam. ‘I’m here now, so let’s get going, shall we?’
Pulling her hair into a messy knot on top of her head, Eddie called Aimee first. The locum doctor had just visited and thought the rash was only a heat rash, not chicken pox, thankfully. Satisfied that Aimee and the kids were okay, Eddie got to work. While she hauled in the tables from the shed and set them up, Pam, or someone, evidently made phone calls because dozens of volunteers arrived back at the hall. The place teemed with activity and action. Someone put Christmas music on and soon people were humming or singing along as they worked. Even Eddie started to feel better.
In next to no time the tables were set and the timber floors swept and cleaned so well they could eat off them if they had to. Everything was starting to look much more presentable and festive. Eddie would need to redo the Christmas tree later – Lisa had delegated the job to the kids and none of the decorations were higher than Eddie’s waist – but at least it was a start and better than nothing, which is where they were two hours earlier. She stood back and surveyed their handiwork. Daisy would be proud, and, more importantly, everyone who attended would appreciate the effort.
Eddie checked her phone. Four o’clock. ‘Does anyone know where the caterer is?’ she called out.
The woman Nan had booked should have been there at three. The local butcher was supplying a spit roast lamb and setting it up at lunchtime tomorrow, but the caterer was supposed to be bringing potatoes wrapped in foil and all the salads today. Naturally Eddie’s mind raced to the worst-case scenario. The last thing she needed was one more thing to go wrong.
A car door slammed outside and she exhaled in relief.
‘Maybe that’s her now,’ she said as she crossed the hall and headed for the exit.
*
Harry closed the car door with more force than he intended. He still couldn’t believe his mum and sister had kept his father’s illness from him. But as much as this upset him, he only had himself to blame and this annoyed him. He was frustrated with himself for being so out of touch with his family that he didn’t know something serious was going on. His decision to exclude himself from family meant he was now wracked with guilt too. He should have been there for them.
The night before, after they’d all had a cry and drank countless cups of tea, he’d gone to his old room to bed. He’d planned to get out his iPad and put his father’s symptoms into ‘Doctor Google’ but despite his brain rattling with worry, he’d fallen into an exhausted sleep and slept like a log. There was no time the next day to get on his iPad either. He’d spent the morning helping Simon around the farm then helped Claire and his mum prepare
food for the community dinner they were catering for. It was the first big function Claire had catered for and she was understandably anxious that everything be perfect. She wanted to put her best foot forward in the hope her fledgling small business would get new customers. Now, instead of researching medical conditions, he was stuck delivering potatoes. As much as he was happy to help, the quicker he got this job done the better.
How was it possible his father had been sick for six months and no one knew what was wrong with him? The sense of urgency rose in Harry’s gut again, threatening to strangle him with its intensity. But he stuffed his fears back down. Right now, the best way to help his family was deliver all this food. He went around to the boot, dragged out the plastic tub filled with foil-covered spuds and stomped towards the hall.
‘Hello. What are you doing here?’
Harry looked up and almost dropped the tub.
‘Edwina! Hi.’
‘It’s Eddie.’
Edwina – Eddie – stared down at him from the top step, waiting for him to say something
‘I’m helping my sister, Claire. She’s the caterer.’ He hoisted the tub higher. ‘I’ve brought the food.’
She studied him for a moment before smiling and taking the steps two at a time.
When she reached him, she looked him straight in the eye. He was struck with the intensity of their colour – yesterday he’d thought they were ocean grey, but today they looked so green he wondered if she wore coloured contact lenses. They were still puffy underneath though, like she’d been crying again.
‘Thank God you’re here. When it got to three o’clock I figured the caterer mustn’t be coming and I admit I was starting to freak out.’
‘She’s not coming.’
Eddie’s face blanched. Tiny freckles popped out across the bridge of her nose.
He rushed to reassure her. ‘Claire couldn’t make it, but it’s okay, I’m here to help.’ He gave the plastic tub a little shake. ‘These are the potatoes. The rest of the food is in the car. Claire said I just have to put everything in the fridges ready for tomorrow.’ He grinned. ‘I don’t know a single thing about catering, but I reckon I have just enough brains to manage this. But don’t ask me to help tomorrow. My expertise stops right here.’
A smile tugged at her lips. ‘Are you saying you wouldn’t know how to heat up spuds or put dressing on coleslaw?’
‘Trust me, that’s way above my pay grade. I’ll leave that to my sister.’
She smiled again. It changed her entire face, causing her eyes to sparkle and tiny dimples to appear in both cheeks. ‘I hope you’re right, because I’m a hopeless cook.’
He winked. ‘I reckon we’ve got this.’
She pointed to the plastic tub in his arms. ‘Heavy?’
‘Not really.’ No way would he admit he longed to dump the box at her feet and ask her to try carrying it. It weighed a tonne. He had no idea how Claire thought she’d be able to lift it in and out of the car. ‘But you know what, if I put them down, I can shake your hand and say hi properly. I know we met at Christine’s yesterday, but –’
‘Kitchen’s this way,’ she interrupted. ‘Come with me.’
He hefted the tub higher and followed her around the side of the hall to a back entrance, unable to take his eyes off her backside and the way it swayed slightly with each step. He couldn’t help admiring her long, suntanned legs extending from cut-off denim shorts.
‘You can drop them there, if that’s okay.’ She stopped in front of him and pointed.
His thoughts were so focused on her cute behind he almost crashed into her. He dumped the tub on the ground and stuck out his hand. ‘Harry the helper, at your service, ma’am.’
She laughed and the sound was deep – natural and rich, and full of warmth and humour. It made him feel happier than he’d felt all day.
‘Well, Harry the helper, there’s plenty left to do in the hall, if you have time.’
‘For you, I have all the time in the world.’
As soon as the words fell from his mouth he wanted to slap himself. Could he have sounded any more corny? Thankfully Eddie didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, she kept it to herself.
For the next ten minutes, Harry made countless trips to and from the car. He brought everything inside and dumped it in the kitchen. Standing back, he surveyed the mess he’d made and caught sight of large red arrows printed on A4 sized pieces of paper. Under each arrow were instructions for what food was to be placed in that spot. He also spied a long list of tasks printed on another piece of paper and taped to the wall. Most of the jobs had already been ruled out with a red marker. If all of this was Eddie’s doing, she obviously had the gift of organisation. Or she was a major control freak. Although Harry was tempted to move things around for the fun of it, he stacked the salads in their allocated spot in the fridges and put the potatoes where the sign indicated and headed back into the main hall to find her.
The place was bustling with people. A Christmas tree stood in the corner near the stage. It was huge – it had to be over three metres tall – but the decorations only filled the bottom third of the branches. He’d have to fix that. Tables were lined up in three long rows with a mishmash of plastic and wooden chairs at each table setting. It wouldn’t take much to bring some order to that, too. An old lady was dutifully placing red, green and white triangle-shaped serviettes in position on the right side of each place setting – a bit tacky, but at least they looked Christmassy.
‘Looks like your tree could use some help,’ he said as he sidled up to Eddie. And the tables, too, but he didn’t want to offend the woman who was clearly taking her task very seriously.
Eddie didn’t look up. She was busy consulting a piece of paper attached to a black clipboard.
Harry leaned over, saw the copy of the list from the kitchen, snatched the marker from her hand and drew a thick red line through ‘caterer’.
‘All the food’s in the kitchen – I followed your arrows and put things exactly where you wanted them. There were no labels in the fridge though to indicate which shelves for the coleslaw and which ones for the fruit salad, but I think I worked it out.’
‘Thank you.’
‘It was a joke, Eddie. Smile.’
The corners of her mouth twitched. ‘I’m aware it was a joke. But you don’t have to sound so smug. I happen to enjoy being organised.’
‘I can tell.’
She faced him, eyes sparkling. ‘Are you having a go at me?’
He held up both hands. ‘Wouldn’t dream of it. By the way, what happened to the tree? Did you employ midgets or run out of decorations?’
She chuckled. ‘It’s not politically correct to say midget. You can say dwarf or little person. But no, I used kids,’ she said.
‘Looks like someone took aim and threw baubles at the tree and hoped they’d stick.’
‘Yeah, I know, but I can’t do anything about it until they leave. They’d be devastated if I undid all their handiwork.’
‘Good point. What can I help you with now? I’ll fix the tree later.’
She planted her hands on her hips and surveyed the room. ‘To be honest, I’m not sure. The tables are set. Everything looks ready. I’m sure I’ve forgotten something important but I have no idea what. With the couple of days I’ve had, it could be anything.’
He heard her voice catch, but when he glanced at her she was staring straight ahead, her face giving nothing away. He followed her gaze. Would she be offended if he told her the hall still looked very un-Christmassy? He decided to take a gamble.
‘You could do with more decorations around the hall – maybe something hanging from the rafters?’
She looked up at the ceiling. ‘Yeah, you’re right, but we’ve used everything on the tree. I was sure we had heaps more stuff last year but this was all I could find in the boxes from home.’ She lifted her hands in the air and let them drop to her side. ‘I know there’s more stuff somewhere but I haven’t got time to go hom
e and look. Knowing my grandad, he packed it in the loft in the shed and I’m not going up there.’
‘I’ve got an idea,’ Harry said. ‘If you don’t mind my help.’
One eyebrow lifted. ‘Should I ask what it is first?’
‘Nah, leave it with me.’
Harry drove home too quickly, but he was anxious to find the boxes of Christmas decorations he knew were kept in the shed and get back to Eddie. As he pulled up behind Claire’s place, she stuck her head out her back door.
‘Please tell me you didn’t forget something,’ she called when he jumped from the car.
‘Everything’s good with the food, but do you reckon Mum would mind if I took some of our Christmas decorations over to the hall?’
‘Christmas isn’t even on her radar this year. I doubt she’ll even notice.’
Harry had offered to buy a tree and decorate the farmhouse, but his mum told him not to bother. A thought skittered across his mind. Would this be their last Christmas together as a family? God, he hoped not.
He entered the coolness of the shed and inhaled the earthy mix of hay and horses. Despite the cloudless day outside, the windows were covered in years of grime and the sun barely penetrated the large space. He waited for his eyes to adjust before making his way over to the small door that led to a storeroom. He twisted the handle and the latch opened with a click but the old door was swollen with damp and wouldn’t budge. He heaved his weight against it and it finally gave way. He pulled out his phone and used the torch app to scan the boxes stacked on the shelves. His mum didn’t have the organisational genes Eddie appeared to have. None of them were labelled. He heaved a sigh. This was going to take longer than he’d planned.
He pulled down the first box and brushed aside years of accumulated dust and cobwebs. Looked like nothing but old farm-related paperwork, which meant nothing to him. He started on the other side of the storeroom.
Three boxes later he stepped out of the shed into the broad daylight, his arms laden with everything he needed to transform the hall into a magical Christmas wonderland. After dumping the boxes in his car, he strode over to the home paddock and scooped up armfuls of dead gum branches. He hoped Eddie would love what he was planning.
One More Song Page 8