Love: Classified

by Jones, Sally-Ann

  “What’s wrong, Ginny?” Josh asked on the morning of the fourth day. I hadn’t slept and my face was blotchy and swollen and my eyes were red from sobbing silently into my pillow. “You’ll let me know loud and clear if it’s getting you down, me being here, won’t you?” he added.

  “It’s not that, Josh. I enjoy your company.”

  “I bet it’s man trouble.”

  I looked at him in astonishment. “Why do you say that? Do I really look like the sort of woman to be having man trouble?”

  “You sure do,” he said, grinning. “You’re gorgeous, Ginny, even if you have been crying. And the thing that makes you so lovely is that you’re completely unaware of it. You have no idea of the magnetism you possess, Most men don’t want to feel skin and bones when they kiss a woman. They don’t want to be able to play a tune on a bony spine. They want warmth and femininity.”

  I digested this with a grateful smile. Then I asked, “But what should I do? I’m in love with a guy who doesn’t love me. He told his sister he’d be coming to see me and that was four days ago. It doesn’t take that long to drive a few hundred kilometres.”

  “Perhaps there’s been a simple misunderstanding. It could easily happen.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe,” I conceded, hopefully.

  “You’re a modern woman. Why don’t you go and find him?” Josh suggested. “If I were him, I’d be thrilled to find someone like you knocking on my door in the middle of the night. Men don’t always want to be the pursuers, Ginny.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. I’m for real. You go and get yourself that man.”

  “Let me ask his sister first,” I said. But I knew Josh was right. I had to take action, to be responsible for my own happiness, not wait for someone to turn up, like a knight in shining armour, to rescue me from my sadness. For the first time in days, I felt a bit of optimism.

  “While we’re on this tack, Ginny, I’d like your advice.”

  I smiled, glad to have someone else’s problems to think about, though I’d already guessed what he was going to ask.

  “I’d really like to get to know Peta again,” Josh said. “She was always the only girl for me, although I was too young and too stupid to know it at the time. Do you think I’ve got a chance with her?”

  “I’d put money on it.”

  According to Daisy’s directions, Magnus had parked Matilda on a rocky part of the coastline somewhere near Albany on the south coast of Western Australia. I packed my suitcase again, adding a new pair of jeans and a thick woolly jumper. I knew from my work-mates that Albany could be cold and wet, even at the end of summer.

  I walked to the deli to tell Jake and Josie of my plans and to say goodbye. Josie was off her crutches and looked better than she had for months.

  “Your Magnus is a miracle-worker,” she said. “He got the cancer stopped in its tracks. He could see there was more wrong with me than a sore leg and he asked one of his specialist friends to look in on me. Now I’m on the mend, well and truly.”

  I whooped with delight and gave her a bear hug.

  “Now, don’t you worry about the chooks, or Barney, or the garden,” I said. “Bree and her father will keep an eye on everything. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone. Depending on the reception I get, it could be one day or a few weeks. The only certainty is, I’m due back at work in three weeks.”

  “You go and have the time of your life, darling,” Josie said. “If Magnus isn’t pleased to see you, I’ll…”

  “Don’t make any predictions. Daisy might owe me a Tuscan holiday,” I smiled.

  “Be off with you,” Jake laughed, shooing me out of the door. “Magnus is the man for you. I said exactly that to Josie that first night you brought him in here for Swiss chocolate. Didn’t I say so, Josie?”

  Josie nodded. “He did, Ginny. He bloody woke me up when I was fast asleep to discuss that man with me. ‘You mark my words,” he said. ‘There’ll be wedding bells before the year’s out, swiftly followed by the patter of little feet’.”

  “I haven’t got him yet, you two,” I said, blushing furiously.

  “Aaah, but you will,” Jake promised.

  I was waved off in my Micra by Josh and a much happier Bree. Josh and I had both spent hours telling her how much her mother loved her and all three were planning a family reunion at a beachside restaurant. I’d secretly counseled Peta to wear something even more fantastic than usual.

  I headed south, unsure whether I could complete the journey in one day. On the way I listened to the radio and was amazed to hear that the date was March the twenty-ninth. I’d been so miserable I hadn’t noticed how fast the season was coming to an end. The following day would be Magnus’ forty-fifth birthday. My holidays had slipped past almost imperceptibly, the time in York with Magnus a golden memory, the next weeks filled with learning Italian with his sister, then painting. In all that time, I’d hardly gone online or read anything. I was unaware of what was happening in the world, something I’d have to remedy soon if I didn’t want to appear inane when I got back to work.

  I drove with concentration, wary of the hazards of the road, even after all these years after her parents’ deaths. They’d been so happy at my cousin’s wedding. I’d smiled to see them silently repeating the solemn words after the priest as if they were renewing their own vows. Then, less than twenty four hours later they’d been killed by a truck whose brakes had failed.

  Mostly I thought about Magnus. Would I be able to find him from Daisy’s hazy directions? What should I give him for his birthday? I wished I could bake him a special cake. If only I’d thought of that before I set out! Would he be pleased to see me? Or would there be another woman in the Kombi? These questions buzzed round and round in my brain.

  I was relieved to be out of the metro area where the traffic was heavy. Soon I was driving through state forest and, with the serene scenery all round me, I began to relax and look forward to reaching Albany.

  At lunch time I reached a siding called Arthur River where a roadhouse selling petrol and food caught my attention. There was a collection of colourful beach umbrellas shading tables set out on a swathe of lawn at the river’s edge. Domestic ducks paddled in the water. Trees leaned over, trailing their leaves into the coolness. I decided to have a rest there, feeling hungry and in need of a break from the monotony of the long, straight, empty road.

  I filled the petrol tank and walked into the roadhouse to pay and see if there was anything good to eat.

  “Hello dearie,” a cheerful woman called from behind the counter. She checked her computer screen and told me the amount I had to pay. “We’ve got home-made steak and kidney pudding on the menu for lunch today, if you’re interested,” she said.

  “Sounds great.” It had been one of my Dad’s favourite meals and I’d cooked it for an appreciative Magnus too.

  “Where are you heading?” the woman asked, having shouted the order into the kitchen behind her.

  “Albany.”

  “That’s a long drive. I hope he’s worth it.”

  “He?” I asked, amused.

  “The fella you’re meeting there. You have the look of a woman in love.”

  “I do?”

  The woman laughed. “I’ve worked behind this till for the best part of fifty years, love, and I’ve seen them all. I chat to everyone and I get to hear all sorts of stories. You wouldn’t believe the things I’ve heard. As soon as I clapped eyes on you, I knew you were one of those falling in love rather than out of it.”

  At that moment a red-faced man in a chef’s hat popped his head around the corner. “Sorry for the delay, Beryl,” he told the woman. “Jackie’s gone and cut her hand and I’ve sent her to the doctor, so we’re short-handed in the kitchen and that bloody tourist bus’ll be here in half an hour. I don’t know how we’ll do it.”

  I thought quickly. The fact that I’d not baked Magnus a cake had been preying on my mind and I realised there was a way to make one after al
l.

  “I’ll help in the kitchen,” I told an astonished Beryl and a relieved cook. “But on one condition.”

  “You’re a cook, darl?” the man asked.

  I nodded. “But I have a problem. I need to make someone a very special birthday cake. Today. So if I help you with the tourists, can I use your ingredients and the oven when the rush is over?”

  The chef whistled loudly. “That’s the oddest proposition I’ve ever had, but I’ll shake you on it,” he said, grasping my hand. “Come on, let’s get you into an apron and a hat. But first of all, tell us what we should call you.”

  My job was mercifully simple. I didn’t want to tell the chef – Colin – that I hadn’t worked in a commercial kitchen since I was a kid and Dad let me dry dishes and fold napkins. Dad had made a living the same way Colin did. Colin gave me a list of the kinds of rolls, sandwiches and Lebanese rolls I was to assemble and left me to get on with it. All the fillings had been prepared and were in plastic containers so it was just a matter of putting them into the bread as decoratively as possible and arranging the finished products on a big platter.

  I dashed outside and found some bright vine leaves and geranium flowers to scatter over the top.

  “You’ve done a beaut job, and fast,” Colin enthused when he looked over from his huge cauldron of mashed potato. “Want to be part of the permanent staff? We could do with someone like you with your flair.”

  “I’d really enjoy working with you, Colin,” I answered truthfully. “But right now I have absolutely no idea what the future holds for me.”

  “Well, keep us in mind.”

  We heard a blaring klaxon that shook the roadhouse and, peering through the door behind the till I saw the big bus pull into the parking area and the hungry, travel-weary tourists disembark. The driver guided them to the tables by the river and they sat down, enjoying the fresh air. I followed Colin outside, greeted them and took their orders for tea, coffee or soft-drinks. I handed the list to Beryl and went on to collect the platter and hand the sandwiches round while Colin served steak and kidney and potato to those who wanted a hot meal.

  Finally I grabbed a few minutes to eat my own lunch and sank into a chair at one of the indoor café tables near Beryl’s desk.

  When the bus had rumbled off, Beryl sighed with relief. “Thank goodness for you, Virginia. “We couldn’t have done it without you. If those tour bus operators have the slightest complaint they drop roadhouses without any thought of loyalty. Those lunches are literally our bread and butter.”

  “Now you’ll be wanting to make your cake,” Colin said. “Let me show you where everything’s kept.”

  Chapter Nine

  By the end of the day I’d baked the most beautiful cake anyone in Arthur River had ever seen. Or at least that’s what Colin said. When the basic sponge was cooking in the superb commercial grade oven I walked to the grocery store and bought a selection of food colouring for the icing. Once the sponge was cool I cut it into the shape of a record-player and iced it to look as if it were made of shiny red plastic. Using a bread and butter plate, I cut a flat, round piece of sponge to resemble a forty-five record, icing it black with a circular yellow label. On the label I wrote in black icing the name of a single I loved: “Hello”. I hoped he’d remember the words.

  I felt Beryl peeping over my shoulder as I carefully formed the final letter. “Hello,” she sang, in a brilliant voice, “is it me you’re looking for?”

  “That’s one lucky guy,” she added.

  “He’s turning forty-five, in case you hadn’t realised,” I said.

  Colin whistled appreciatively then added lugubriously, “I wish someone would make me a cake like that.”

  “Get away! You’re too old!” Beryl laughed.

  “Virginia, you still have about four hours’ driving ahead of you,” Beryl said. “Why don’t you stay here tonight and leave first thing in the morning. You said his birthday’s tomorrow, didn’t you? You’ll get there in perfect time.”

  I thought about it. I didn’t relish trying to find Matilda in the dark. The coastline, I knew from my colleagues’ tales, was rugged and dangerous. It would be impossible to spot a van in the unpeopled darkness. “I will, if you don’t mind,” I said. “And I can make Colin a treat in the meantime.”

  I baked Colin a cake that Bree used to love. This time I iced a sponge to look like a plump, pink pig with a curly licorice tail.

  “Are you going to give your man a present, apart from the cake?” Colin asked. The three of us were enjoying the “pig” under one of the umbrellas.

  “I would, if I knew what to buy him,” I said. “But he’s not the sort of guy who cares much about possessions.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that,” Colin smiled.

  “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Col?” Beryl asked conspiratorially.

  The chef nodded.

  “What are you two up to?” I asked, helping myself to another mug of tea.

  “We’ve got a litter of pups in need of a good home,” he admitted. “Not that I’m expecting you to take them all, mind, but one would help.”

  “They’re nice pups, Virginia,” Beryl said.

  “You’d better show them to me then,” I said resignedly. But, I thought, Magnus liked animals. Perhaps this would be the way to his heart once and for all.

  Before I’d even formulated this thought, Colin was off, running behind the roadhouse. In seconds I heard his whistle and saw a kelpie bitch come from around the corner of the kitchen, a dozen round, red puppies bouncing after her, Colin bringing up the rear.

  I squealed delightedly as the pups wriggled and tumbled towards me and Beryl. I squatted down to see them better and one leapt into my lap and began to wash my face enthusiastically with his warm pink tongue, all the while making happy snuffly noises and wagging its stumpy little tail.

  “I’ll have this one!” I laughed, trying to stand up with the puppy in my arms.

  “Yes, she’s the pick of the bunch. Certainly the liveliest,” Colin said proudly. “They’re not pure kelpie, mind, or I wouldn’t be giving them away. The corgi from the grocery store paid my bitch a visit and this lot is the result.”

  “See? She has a white diamond on her chest,” Beryl pointed out, while the mother dog and puppies played at my feet.

  “She’s a pretty little thing all right,” I agreed.

  “You’ll have to put the cake in the boot of your car and keep the pup in a box on the back seat,” Colin said. “You don’t want the surprise eaten before you get there.”

  I was up extra early next morning, having spent another sleepless night. This time, though, I’d not been desperately sad. I was nervous and very excited about finding Magnus and had been wondering, too, about how Peta’s evening with Josh and their daughter had worked out.

  At six o’clock I couldn’t bear the suspense and I rang her on her mobile.

  “Mmm?” came Peta’s sleepy voice.

  “It’s Ginny. Thinking about you almost non-stop…”

  “You should be thinking about Magnus, not me, you goose,” Peta protested, wide-awake now.

  “I said almost,” I said, smiling. “I want to know how it went. Your big date. I had all my fingers and toes crossed for you.”

  “Well it worked, Ginny. It was fabulous.”

  “Oh that’s great. I’m happy for you. Where did you go?”

  “This lovely seafood restaurant on the seafront at Fremantle. Afterwards we came back to my place and Josh…”

  “Stayed?”

  “Mmm.”

  “And?”

  “A-Maz-Ing. Better than it was even when we were teenagers.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Right here in bed beside me. He’s been awake all this time, listening to our conversation with a big cheesey grin all over his face. Oh Ginny I hope you’ll be as happy as me very soon.”

  “I hope so too,” said Josh, obviously taking the phone from Peta. “You deserve it, kid
.”

  “I’d better let you go,” I said, a tinge of sadness welling up. Anything could happen in the next few hours and it could be disastrous or fabulous. “Love to you both, and give Bree a big kiss from me,” I said.

  “You bet,” Peta said.

  I slid the phone into my bag. I was glad for them. I was terrified for myself. I needed a massive meal to boost my confidence. Beryl was only too happy to serve me bacon and eggs and when we’d said our goodbyes I felt I was as well prepared for whatever might happen as I could be.

  I reached Albany by noon, grateful that the puppy had slept almost the whole way, having enjoyed an extra long last romp with her siblings before we left Arthur River. I stopped for more petrol, a sandwich and to let the puppy stretch her legs before taking one of the roads along the coast. I headed for the Blow Holes, a particularly scenic but hazardous place where sheer cliffs overlooked wildly thrashing seas.

  No scruffy van perched over the ocean here. Patiently, I skirted the beachside tracks in my car, my eyes aching as they ranged the vast empty spaces. Seabirds swooped in the grey sky or dived into the turbulent foam, so at home in this inhospitable environment that they made me feel completely out of place.

  When I’d been driving slowly for about half an hour I came to a gently sloping valley amidst green farmlands where a white deserted beach curled like a child’s palm around a sunlit cupful of water. Bush clung to the sand and the hillside and there, in a clearing, I saw Matty.

  My heart leapt and then I suddenly felt sick. What if he didn’t want to see me?

  I heard the puppy whining in her box on the back seat and made up my mind to swallow my fears and, for the puppy’s sake, to stop the car, get out and let her have some fresh air. If Magnus was dismissive of us, then so be it.

  I slowed the Micra and inched along the boggy track that led to the van’s parking-place, half dreading, half longing for Magnus to emerge. I stopped beside the van and lifted the puppy out. There was no sign of Magnus. I peered through the open door but nobody was there and it looked pretty much as it had when I’d left five weeks before, the two mattresses side by side with their tangle of mismatching sheets and doonas, the pile of books. Putting the puppy down to let her run off some of her pent-up energy, I walked to the shell-strew sand. She trotted after me, wagging her tail. Shading my eyes from the glare, I looked up and down the arc of the beach. My heart ricocheted in my rib-cage when I recognised a tall, lean, dark-haired man fishing on the rocks at the southern end of the bay’s curve. Shaking from head to foot, I kicked off my shoes and walked tremulously towards him, not daring to call his name.