by Cate Kendall
‘Darling, it’s an impossible situation and there’s really no point thinking about all the what-ifs,’ Tori counselled.
‘I know you’re right,’ Jess said as she screwed up scrap paper and threw it in the recycling bin. ‘He was such a phoney, you know,’ she said suddenly. ‘That’s what it was. He was such a good salesman as a wine rep that it spilled over to his private life. He would do or say anything to get his own way.’
‘Oh, for sure,’ Tori said. ‘Like when he told Nick he barracked for St Kilda and managed to get him around to work all day during last year’s finals when Nick had origin ally said no.’
‘Yeah, that’s right. I was so surprised about that. I couldn’t work out why Nick wasn’t going to the game. But he said, “Anything for a Saints fan.” Then when I told him that Graham was a Kiwi who didn’t even follow AFL he just stormed off. He never returned another of Graham’s calls.’
‘Wow, what a dog.’ Tori shook her head.
‘Come on, let’s go and sit out on the deck,’ Jessica suggested. ‘It’s a beautiful night.’
Outside a blanket of stars sparkled from above and a gentle breeze flirted with the gums. ‘Here, this’ll keep you warm,’ Jess said and threw a mohair rug to Tori, who slipped it around her shoulders.
They settled into the outdoor furniture with their drinks, the snacks on a table between them, and Jess continued her story.
‘It wasn’t as if there was one big moment where everything fell apart between us, you know; it was more like a whole lot of little things that slowly eroded our relationship.’
‘I know absolutely what you mean,’ Tori replied. She pulled the rug closer around her. ‘It’s like there’s just a long horrible rumbling of nastiness.’
‘Exactly,’ Jessica nodded, tucking her feet under her body. ‘But I was so in love with the boys that Graham sort of faded out of the picture. The boys and I were a team. Perhaps that’s why he left, maybe he felt excluded from our little group.’
‘Not at all, you all had fun together, I saw it,’ Tori protested. ‘You guys did all the picnics and camping and stuff that any other family does. But Graham was never bloody happy, was he? He was always grumpy about something.’
Jess slapped at a mosquito that was humming around her legs. ‘You know, I reckon he has a real nasty streak – well, in fact I’ve discovered just how nasty in the past year, but back then I’d only see it every now and then. He would occasionally tease the boys, but not good-naturedly, you know, almost like he enjoyed upsetting them.’
‘Really, how do you mean?’ Tori replied. She sat upright with surprise.
‘Oh, nothing abusive or anything, just things like saying, in a sing-song manner, “Liam’s got a girlfriend,” and you know how sensitive little Liam is, he hated it. He’d beg his dad to stop until he was in tears. But Graham kept doing it. Sometimes he acted just like an annoying little brother, not a father at all.’
‘That’s just plain strange,’ Tori said.
‘Yeah, I know,’ Jess said ‘Hey, this marinated capsicum is gorgeous. Where’d you get it from? It might even be better than mine.’
Tori threw her head back with laughter. ‘That’s because it is yours, darling! I had the store send me some up for the season and I threw it on the platter with some other bits from The Essential Ingredient.’
Jess cracked up with laughter. ‘Thank God I didn’t say it was awful then,’ she cried. ‘Oh god, that feels good,’ she said and wiped tears from her cheeks. ‘It’s nice to laugh.’
‘We both need it,’ Tori said, raising her glass. ‘It’s been a tough year.’
‘It sure has,’ Jess said. Her laughter turned to seriousness again. ‘I tried so hard to make it work with Graham. I wish it hadn’t ended, especially not the way it did. It was so ugly, so cruel.’
‘The man is a creep,’ Tori said, patting Jess’s knee.
‘You’re right,’ Jessica admitted, ‘and he got worse so subtly, so slowly that I barely noticed. It crept up on me until suddenly I looked at him one day and thought, I don’t even like you. But the boys made it worth putting up with his crap; well, to a point anyway. I always thought if we broke up I’d have joint custody of the boys.’
‘Yeah, what’s up with that?’ Tori asked. ‘No joy there at all?’
‘The lawyers tell me I can’t fight for the kids. I was just a girlfriend in the eye of the law as we didn’t officially live together.’
‘That’s insane! He and his kids lived in your house for more than three years! You housed him! He owes you rent at least.’
‘But there’s no proof of that, can you believe it? He owned, and still owns, a house in Williamstown that he’d been renting out for cash – he’s so dodgy – so he told the courts that it had always been his principal place of residence. We never had any formal documentation about rent or mortgage or anything. I’m such an idiot,’ she said as she put her head in her hands.
‘No, not an idiot; just trusting and too generous – beautiful traits,’ said Tori, grabbing her friend by the hand.
‘I’ve spent a fortune on lawyers but apparently the only option is to keep the relationship civil and appeal to him as a human being and try to make arrangements to see the boys privately, which I don’t see happening any time soon. He’s doing his best to just delete me from their lives, like I never existed.’ Her face creased with pain. ‘I get to speak to them once a month when their Aunty Samantha has them for the afternoon, so that’s a blessing. But it breaks my heart when Liam cries and asks why he can’t see me anymore. It’s almost not worth it.’
‘And there’s nothing you can do?’
‘Believe me,’ Jess said, staring at the endless stars twinkling above, ‘I have been through this so many times. If there was I would have done it by now.’
11
The car parks were full. The shops were teeming with well-groomed families in Country Road weekend wear. The main street was choked with flashy four-wheel drives and shiny European sports cars, and basic provisions were dwindling in the shops. The townies were back.
The township of Stumpy Gully was groaning under the weight of its tripled summer population. The summer holidays had begun and the city had emptied a good chunk of its population into the small towns dotted around the picturesque coast.
The visitors were easy to spot: their riding boots were shiny and dust-free, their Driza-Bones were unfaded and their children used hair products to keep their complicated styles in place.
The city ladies breezed up and down the main street placing orders with the bakery, butcher and florist to stock up for their holiday break. Their manicures were immaculate, designer sun glasses held back well-coiffed locks, and their designer weekend wear was clearly monogrammed with the appropriate designers; Tommy Hilfiger, Ralph Lauren and even Burberry gumboots.
‘Dahling-how-are-yous’ echoed through the car park as the visitors joyfully ran into other holiday-makers they’d seen only a few days before in the big smoke.
The locals rolled their eyes and swapped amused smiles as the city dwellers played at country life, singing out happily to each other in the shops:
‘You must pop into the estate: I’m whipping up a pomegranate tart.’
‘Do come to the property: we’ve had the gardener put in the most divine Stephanie Alexander kitchen garden.’
‘We’ve had the living room done in French Provincial with a dash of Shabby Chic, it’s just too Country Life!’
The shopkeepers stored up their favourite overheard quotes and shared them among themselves after hours.
Jess often felt torn between her friendships with the locals and the visitors; it was a tricky balance at times. This morning a throng of townies was at her store and she was dividing her time between work and sharing a coffee with Tori.
‘So, what’s on for this New Year’s festivities?’ Tori asked her as she scanned the menu.
‘Sorted, darling!’ A voice from above their heads boomed.
; ‘Cat!’ the two women exclaimed and stood to greet the new arrival with a round of air kisses and compliments. Cat heaved her bottom onto a chair and groaned in relief at taking the weight off her feet.
‘Fi’s doing a masquerade ball on her estate New Year’s Eve. And I’m bringing in the nanny army for the children at mine.’
‘Fantastic,’ Jessica said. ‘Sounds like heaps of fun!’
‘Yep, the fun’s at Fi’s and the kids are at Cat’s,’ Cat boomed with laughter at her play on words. ‘Cap, lovey, and don’t spare the full cream!’ she boomed over the heads of the patrons to the busy barista. ‘Fi’s actually on her way in now; she’s out in the car park trying to negotiate a space for that beastly truck of hers.’
‘Oh, she didn’t buy the Hummer, did she?’ Tori asked with a look of distaste. ‘They’re so, I don’t know ... pedestrian.’
‘How can a car be pedestrian, you goose?’ Cat replied. ‘Yes, bloody great barge of a thing: she’s already taken out the front bumper. On my stone gate post, no less. The gate survived, thank Christ. A small nick just improves the rural look of the entrance. Can’t say that about her entrance though.’ Cat indicated the front door as Fi stood holding it open for her four small boys. They barrelled in mid-wrestle, mid-argument and mid-squeal.
Fi stood with a tight grin on her face before following the rabble inside. She was wearing a long, sixties-inspired maxidress. Bony shoulders and clavicle poked past the spaghetti straps. Teetering cork espadrilles and a wide paisley headband completed the vintage look; her long blonde hair was highlighted to perfection.
Fi deftly dispatched the four boys to the kids’ table, slapped orange juices in front of them and ordered four toasted sandwiches, all within ten seconds.
No wonder she was so thin, Jessica noted. If that woman even found time to go to the loo, let alone eat, it would be a miracle. Fi and her second husband, Anthony, had planned their first two boys, but the third unplanned pregnancy resulted in a pair of wild twin boys, which, when combined with Fi’s two daughters from her first marriage, Missy and Gracie, meant the woman was run off her feet constantly. Yet she was the type to revel in the challenge – always working on a new charity committee, function or project – which was why it came as no surprise to anyone that she had volunteered to host the New Year’s Eve function at her place.
‘Girls, mwah,’ she moued in the general direction of the table. She even shorthanded air kisses, Jess thought.
‘It’s on, at my place, huge masquerade ball. Everyone’s coming. Harley, put that down. You must do the decorating, Jess – Tom, take that out of your ear this instant. Tori, you look great. Latte please. Did Cat tell you she’s having the kids at hers?’
‘Just starting to, lovey, before your family hurricane blew in.’
‘It’ll be brilliant. Tell them.’ Fi downed her latte the second it was placed in front of her before a child-related event could prevent her ingesting the caffeine. It was probably why she never bothered ordering food, Jess thought: there was no chance she’d get to eat it. Even the laid-back Jess was on edge when she spent too much time in Fi’s company.
Cat raised her speaking volume a few notches to compete with the cacophony from the children’s table. ‘We’re turning the old stables into bunk rooms. We’ve got a jumping castle, a kiddie band, the local foodies are catering all the nibbly bits–’
Fi leaned forward to interrupt. ‘And the best thing is Gracie’s school friend is doing a nanny course and is bringing a truckload of trainee nannies down with her to supervise the entire shebang. It’ll be like school camp. But with X-Box.’
‘See, it’ll be great!’ Cat said.
‘Fab,’ Fi agreed. ‘Hugh, pick that up. Tom, put that down. Must be off: they’re turning.’ She downed the glass of water in front of her and stood, swinging her Prada sac over her slight frame and collecting her charges as they darted left and right to avoid her grasp. ‘Honestly, it’s like herding cats. Get in the car you little monkeys.’ With Fendi shades firmly in place, she eventually left and the entire cafe breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Crazy!’ Cat’s booming tone soon disrupted the silence.
12
Jessica placed the last latte glass, polished and gleaming, atop the espresso machine ready for the next morning’s attack, and sighed.
She usually loved the solitude of closing time, when only faint echoes of the busy day remained in the store and the amber glow of twilight warmed the walls. But today she continued to fight the feeling of dissatisfaction and despondency that had been haunting her lately. Outside the sun was sinking below the horizon and the sea was calm and still.
As Jess flicked a mop across the floorboards she remembered how decrepit the store had been when she had first taken it over. She and her dad had gone along to the auction ten years before out of curiosity more than anything, but as she’d wandered around the tired, sagging weatherboard shack that housed the local post office and sold basic bread and milk supplies, Jess had suddenly been seized with a sense of possibility.
‘Dad, I could do this you know,’ she’d said, squeezing his arm with excitement.
‘Hmmm ... do what?’ Richard had asked, distracted by a discussion he was having with the estate agent about the local market.
‘I could turn this into somewhere really special; a place where people could meet, eat good food and relax. It has so much scope, so much character; this is something I could really get my teeth into. Oh Dad, do you think, maybe, well ... what do you think?’ she had gushed, her shining eyes and flushed cheeks telling her father how badly she had fallen in love with her vision of a new General Store. And because it was the first time since she had finished design school that he had seen her so passionate about anything, Richard had raised his arm again and again as the auction price increased until suddenly Jess was hugging him delightedly and shrieking with joy and the General Store was theirs. They became a father and daughter team: fifty-fifty business partners.
She’d opened for business four months later. Rainbow and Songbird, and of course Nick, had worked long hours with her to clean and wash the dusty interior of the store, and she’d started out with simple offerings of coffee and cake, but soon her dreams of lime-washed boards, windows overlooking the slice of bay that peeped from behind the banksias, walls of shelving to hold locally made jams and preserves, vintage knick-knacks and work from local artisans filled the space. The long love-worn wooden counter from a country haberdashery became her front counter. She hired a chef and a manager and rummaged in op shops across the Peninsula, hunting out mismatched English china, souvenir teaspoons and retro jugs and glasses to give the store its eclectic feel.
Nick had worked for weeks with her that first summer, building the deck that became a favourite of locals and townies, who coveted the 1960s patio furniture with the best view of the bay.
Inside the store was bright, airy and open, the salt of the sea mixing with the local fare and attracting plenty of customers. Jess’s design flair was stamped throughout the interior from tiny touches, such as pottery bowls of sea-smoothed glass collected on the beach that lay just metres from the store’s front door, to the larger features, like the enormous pier bollards that marked out the parking area around the side. And her years of helping her mum in the Lavender Lunches restaurant paid off tenfold in the General Store’s early days as she multi-tasked the pokey little corner store’s way to a viable business. Her cook, Andrea, was a god-send but it was Jessica’s stylish decor, merchandising and warmth with the customers that kept the punters flowing in the front door.
It was here, in her cafe and produce store, that Jess felt more fully at home than almost anywhere in the world; this was hers, her vision and hopes all realised within four walls. All the dreams and passion she had ever had for interior design that she could never seem to find the right outlet for after school seemed to come together in this simple beach shack – which these days proudly boasted a gleaming commercial kitchen that could cater
a stylish wedding. Two years after the cafe was humming along and the produce store section began to support itself, Jessica had opened the art gallery. The short glass corridor led from the cafe section into a large white room where Jessica proudly showcased local talent, with a small corner dedicated to her own pieces.
Bold beach scenes in whites and neutrals in oil on enormous canvas, by local painter Helen Greenwill, were a big favourite– the tourists couldn’t get enough of the things to feature over the stone fireplaces in their beach houses. Patrick Lardner, whose work was so well known and so highly priced that he was really a national treasure, even exhibited his bold, naive works on the odd occasion; more as a favour to Jessica than anything.
The other artists who exhibited in the General Store Gallery ranged from hobbyists to professionals – it didn’t matter to Jess if they were well known or not.
But, even with her gallery, even with the store, now it was time to leave. She’d done enough here. She’d proved herself and now a bigger challenge lay before her. She recognised there was a void within her that was unable to be filled by the beautiful cafe. It had been filled by the boys and was now yawning; empty and painful deep inside.
Before Graham, she’d considered moving on to a new challenge. But then he’d walked into her life and had given her an instant family. In retrospect, up until then she felt she’d lived her entire life in black and white, and suddenly – with two warm bodies squeezed up against her on the couch as she read them stories – it was infused with colour.
Graham was sweet and fun – at first – but even the growing distance between them hadn’t bothered her that much; hearing the boys call her ‘Mumma’ was bliss. For four years she was the centre of a family and along with the commercial and creative satisfaction of running her store and creating artworks for the gallery, she felt complete.
She was happy to take over the reins as full-time mum while Graham worked long days as the marketing manager for the National Vignerons’ Association. He was often on the road, and he stayed in the city overnight at least once a week.