“Well, the reduced rent amount saw seventeen expressions of interest being received. According to you, the criteria to be applied are creativity, a good work ethic and the ability to complement your floristry business,” Sakura continued. “I have considered all the applications but there were three that really met your criteria. These three applications were notified that they have been shortlisted for this lease.”
“That’s awesome,” said Iris as she held her hands together in anticipation.
“The first shortlistee is a restaurant business, ‘Sageia’ that focuses on Asian-European fusion cuisine developed by a young female chef, Sage Whittle. This young woman appeared on a top-rating television cooking program called “You’re Roasted”. I don’t know if you remember the episode where she accidentally torched a part of the stage kitchen? Was it because of a comment a judge made? I can’t remember. Anyhow, she was the runner-up of season three. She got that nice red Mazda as the consolation prize. Sage stated in her application that she is hoping to use this space as a launch pad for her career,” explained Sakura.
“That sounds interesting and an exciting opportunity for Sage,” said Iris.
“The second shortlistee is a coffee shop within an art exhibition space called “Espressability Gallery Cafe”. This business focuses specifically on artists who identify as having a disability. They loved the night city vibe and were enthusiastic about having regular art exhibitions. Also the artists are paid to make the coffee. That’s their business model. The business owners have a belief where they want to empower people with disabilities by providing jobs,” said Sakura.
“Wow, that sounds inspirational,” Iris enthused.
“There wouldn’t be much difficulty in getting local council approval for modifications to make the space accessible, for example that raised step,” said Sakura.
“Yes, that’s fine. I’m more than happy to be accommodating to modifications,” said Iris.
“And the third option I selected is an artisan cake maker, Malik Zahra, who makes cakes for special occasions. I have had a look at the wedding cakes he has created and seriously, they make me want to get married. That’s how artistic he is. I think I saw one in the shape of a chandelier,” said Sakura. “Malik has been based predominantly in western Sydney and is seeking to build his name in the city and Eastern suburbs. He’s won quite a few awards of excellence.”
“Oh dear. You’ve put me in a difficult place Sakura,” said Iris, feeling overwhelmed. “I do have a difficult decision to make. They all sound equally good.”
“Well you don’t have to make the decision straight away. Take as long as you need, whether it be a few days or several weeks. Once you’ve told me your choice, I shall draft the lease documents and ensure you are covered for all potential liabilities,” said Sakura. “Here are copies of each of the three expressions of interest so you can study and analyse as much as you like.”
Sakura handed over a big black folder, which had three dividers, a section for each application.
“Thank you, Sakura. Oh, by the way, is it okay for me to go through with the interior renovations for the building?” asked Iris.
“Yes, I have discussed the plans you raised with me to the local council. As you are only really replacing existing appliances and giving the place a freshening up, you can go ahead. From what you’ve told me, you’re not intending to knock any walls down. Though, do let me know if you need me to undertake any significant alteration to the two spaces,” said Sakura.
“Thanks again, Sakura,” said Iris. “I’m looking forward to working closely with the tradespersons and making the two spaces and upstairs look really nice. And then I can move in upstairs. I’m excited to be living at a different address, especially in a more salubrious suburb. Let me tell you, that is one significant alteration.”
Sakura and Iris laughed at the joke.
“Well that concludes business,” said Sakura as she stood up to shake Iris’s hand. Iris stood to her feet, holding the folder under her left arm and feeling a sense of confidence she had not felt for a long time.
Chapter 8
Wednesday, 18 April – 11:09 pm
Rosie tapped the pencil against the empty piece of paper and started to yawn heavily. She had not written anything. Not even one single word. Today had been the first concerted effort for Rosie to return to a passion of her own. Writing. Rosie used to be passionate about creative writing. Here she was, 44 years old, a community care nurse, a divorcee and trying to write.
But nothing. No ideas or themes jumped out at her.
This used to come naturally to me, thought Rosie. She placed the pencil on the blank piece of paper and stood up from her desk. She lived on her own in a small terrace in Woolloomooloo. She had a mortgage on the terrace, which she had acquired in her late twenties. Then she worked as a nurse, often staying over at people’s homes overnight to ensure an adequate level of care was provided. But she still wrote from time to time. She had her writing journals as evidence, which included creative writing pieces and even some short plays. And then she met a man and got married. She stopped writing completely then. It seemed that the relationship needed her full attention along with her work. Maybe she should not have accepted so many weekend shifts at work, leaving her now ex-husband by himself. Rosie shook her head. She had done nothing wrong.
Rosie walked over to her bedroom and started to prepare her uniform for the following day. This is my problem. When I am by myself my mind is constantly drifting away, thought Rosie. In her work, Rosie stood to attention but in her personal life she was lonely and just plain sad. The divorce happened more than a year ago, why can’t I just move on, Rosie thought as she went to retrieve a coat-hanger. In this action Rosie had accidentally knocked over a few items that were piled up in a compartment in the closet. Rosie finished putting her uniform on the coat hanger and then bent down to retrieve the fallen items.
Rosie picked up the deodorant spray, the sunscreen, the perfume bottle and the framed photo.
The framed photo.
Why have I even kept this? thought Rosie as she made to throw the frame into her bin but stopped just as she was about to dispose of this item. Rosie stepped back and placed the spray, sunscreen and perfume back into the compartment. Rosie then stood closer to the middle of the room to get as much light onto the photo.
It was their wedding photo. A photograph was taken in front of the stone steps of a Catholic Church. There they all were. Bride and groom in the centre. The grooms were on one side and the bridesmaids wearing pale frangipani pink on the other side. Rosie recalled the long walk down the aisle, being on her father’s arm as he gave her away to the groom near the altar. She looked back at the photo. She felt so special on that day. She scrutinised her own figure in the photograph. She was positively beaming and glowing. Her months of shoulder workouts could be seen in her taut upper body as she wore a beaded and fitted bodice that flowed into a beautiful white and ivory ruffled fishtail dress. Her long dark brown hair had been fashioned into an elegant bun.
Rosie then directed her attention to the man standing beside her. He looked very handsome in his wedding suit and he had a humble but joyous look on his face. Anyone would think they’d still be together looking at that photo, thought Rosie. Nobody would have guessed at the divorce.
This grinning man had moved into her unit where they lived together and then the fighting began to happen.
Rosie was forever grateful that he did not lodge a claim against her property. Of course, he found somewhere else to live, thought Rosie darkly.
Yet, the divorce had been a big shock. She felt humiliated to have to tell her family and friends. The last thing she wanted was to be fodder for gossip and being on the receiving end of apologetic looks and sad smiles.
Rosie decided to keep the photo. It was a reminder of how important decisions can be made in blinkered circumstances. She placed the frame upright on her bedside table, switched off the light and went to sleep. She sile
ntly prayed to herself that her creative writing juices would flow back to their rightful places.
Chapter 9
Thursday, 19 April – 8:02 pm
Iris was sipping her chamomile tea at the Penrith flat. She was sitting in front of her laptop searching for available tradespeople within the eastern suburbs. So far she had met one tradesperson in person earlier today, Ron. Iris’s eyes drifted away from the screen of the laptop as her thoughts turned to Ron.
10:31 am
Iris was waiting to meet up with Ron Thistle, a handyman, who had decades of experience working in both domestic and commercial projects. An older gentleman walked towards the front of the store. He had snowy white hair and a well-trimmed moustache and beard. He wore a black T-shirt, faded pale-blue jeans and durable black work-boots. Iris noted that the t-shirt fitted perfectly over the man’s muscular torso. He was very fit for his age.
“Hello, I’m Ron. You must be Iris,” said Ron as he held out his right hand to Iris, while holding an iPad in his left hand.
“Yes, that’s me,” said Iris as she shook Ron’s hand. She felt Ron’s warmth and firmness in the handshake.
“So this is the building,” said Iris waving her arms in front of the building. “This space is where I intend to operate the floristry business.”
Iris checked the keys and placed the key into the door. Iris caught a glimpse of Ron’s beautiful masculine face in the reflection of the shop window and a shiver went down the back of her spine. Iris pushed the door open. There was no need to turn the lights on as sunshine had beamed through the shop. Ron stepped into the shop after Iris and took an inspection around the ground floor.
“Yes, basically I need a few repairs. There are quite a few chipped surfaces,” said Iris as she pointed out to Ron about eight different areas of the store space that needed attention. Ron started taking photographs on his iPad. An unbidden thought of “photograph me!” entered Iris’s mind. She obliterated the thought immediately.
“The stairs especially need repairing,” said Iris as she demonstrated the creakiness and some small chipped parts of the steps.
Ron nodded as he came over to the steps where he also took some more photographs.
“If you come upstairs, there are even more repairs needed,” said Iris as she creaked her way to the top level, which was bathed in lovely bright sunlight. Ron took a few more photographs and was soon standing next to Iris.
“So the bathroom and kitchen will need to be checked for serviceability,” pointed out Iris as Ron went to take photographs in those rooms
“This is a very nice space you have here,” said Ron, looking around at the high ceilings. He walked over to the window, which looked out onto Oxford Street.
“Yes, it’s a lovely space. I’ll take you over to the next door space,” said Iris and walked back down the stairs with Ron following closely behind. “Am I imagining it but can I feel Ron’s breath on the back of my neck? Don’t be ridiculous,” thought Iris.
Iris let Ron out onto the pavement and locked the door to the floristry space. After Ron had seen all the jobs that needed to be done in the next-door space, he then looked directly into Iris’s eyes.
“Let me make the calculations tonight and I will give you a quote in the morning,” said Ron.
“Thank you, Ron. I look forward to hearing from you,” said Iris a bit too enthusiastically. Ron gave a grin and Iris could not help but return the smile. Ron waved and turned around to walk to his nearby parked ute. “He has a nice saunter. I could watch him walk all day,” thought Iris.
Iris snapped back to reality as her mobile phone buzzed away on the dining table. It was Iris’s mum. She felt guilty that she was caught thinking of someone else other than Roddy.
“Hi Mum,” answered Iris. “How are you?”
“Hi darling. Not too bad. I’m getting through the day. And you?” asked Gladys.
“Not too bad, I’ve been so busy, what with making appointments for painters and tradies to find a reasonable quote, and I’m trying to find someone available on short notice. Some of these people are booked out for months. There’s a renovation frenzy happening in Sydney,” said Iris.
“It’s good to hear you’re keeping yourself busy,” said Gladys. “I’m calling because I had another look at Jack’s personal effects and I missed an envelope of photographs.”
“Oh, did you find anything out of the ordinary?” asked Iris.
“He’d kept this photo of us as siblings when we were little. We were hugging each other cheek-to-cheek. We looked so happy,” said Gladys with a shaky voice. “I’m starting to feel guilty about what happened with Jack.”
“Oh, Mum. You shouldn’t worry too much. The past is the past,” said Iris.
“But Iris, when I’m looking at this photo I keep thinking to myself, what went wrong? Where did our good relationship go? This photo I see is proof that we genuinely like each other. These are loving and happy smiles.”
Iris’s mind briefly went back to the airport scene. There was a pause.
“You still there, Iris?” asked Gladys.
“Yes, I’m still here Mum. I was just thinking when we both went to see Jack at the airport. Was there another person with Jack? An older balding man? Did you know who that person was?” asked Iris.
“I think the person you’re referring to is Pascal,” said Gladys, her voice hardening.
“And?” asked Iris.
“And what?” Gladys answered with another question.
“Who is this Pascal person? How is he connected to Jack?”
“He was French and was working in Sydney at the time. I didn’t really get to know him for long” said Gladys and emitted an audible sigh.
“Well that explains going to France. But wasn’t Pascal much, much older than Jack? In 1973 Jack would have been what, in his early thirties but it looked like Pascal was well into his fifties,” Iris said.
“Yes, Pascal was definitely a lot older than Jack,” Gladys said.
“But it doesn’t explain how Jack could afford to buy the building on Oxford Street,” said Iris. Iris’s phone buzzed again. “Mum I’m getting another call. It’s the electrician, I’ve been waiting to hear from him all week. Can I call you back later?”
“Sure darling,” Gladys said and the call ended.
Chapter 10
Sunday, 22 April – 10:45 am
“I’m not sure your idea is going to work, Heath,” said Anthony as he drove into Edgecliff and turned left into the road leading into Darling Point. “I’ve sent Mum countless text messages and she hasn’t responded once. It’s been two weeks since that incident at the café.”
“Well, we can always give this plan a try,” said Heath. “I know how much this wedding means to you and I’m one hundred percent with you that your mum should be part of the celebration.”
“Hmm,” said Anthony. “Well, if this plan doesn’t work, at least I can say I did everything I could to involve Mum.”
“It might work though, Anthony. Persistence can be a powerful thing,” said Heath.
Anthony drove down into a few side streets.
“So, Mum lives up there, on the tenth floor,” said Anthony as he killed the ignition and pointed to a white-painted 1950s boxy apartment block. “She lives in a one-level apartment. She has full title to the place since Dad passed away forty years ago of liver problems. It’s been a while since I dropped by here. Okay, let’s go Heath.”
“I think, I’ll stay in the car,” said Heath.
“What? Don’t be crazy! I’m not meeting Mum by myself,” protested Anthony as he unbuckled his seatbelt.
“I saw how upset your mum was at Walsh Bay. I think she really needs to see you alone. I don’t want to get in the way,” said Heath.
“But Heath, you’re my fiancé. Mum wasn’t upset. She was being plain rude and unco-operative. Mum has just got to deal with the fact that you’re an important part of my life now,” said Anthony.
“Baby steps, Anthony. D
on’t worry about me, I’ve got my smart phone to keep me pre-occupied,” said Heath. “Oh and don’t forget the Belgian chocolates for the occasion.”
Anthony glared at Heath for five long seconds. Anthony took the box of chocolates out of Heath’s grasp and then got out of the car. Anthony shut the car door not too subtly and started making his way towards the apartment block.
“Good luck,” yelled out Heath as he poked his head out through the passenger window. Anthony waved him away.
Anthony walked off the pavement and headed onto the apartment’s walkway. At the end of the walkway was the security entrance. Anthony glanced nervously at the intercom. He had dressed nicely for the occasion, hoping to show Mum the debonair man he knew his mum always wanted him to be. He checked his appearance in the reflection of the glass and checked to see that no hair was out of place on his head and beard.
Anthony took a few deep breaths and reminded himself he was here to reunite with his mother. With that thought, he pressed the button for his mother’s residence on the intercom. The button rang out a few times. Maybe Mum was out. Anthony felt a mixture of relief and disappointment and was about to turn back to the car when a voice answered.
“Hello?” said Camille’s voice uncertainly.
Anthony directed his attention back on the intercom.
“Hi Mum, it’s me, Anthony.”
“Anthony? What are you doing here? Go away, I don’t want to see you,” said Camille.
“Mum, haven’t you read my text messages?” asked Anthony.
“Yes, and please stop harassing me. I don’t want to have anything to do with you or your upcoming wedding. Go ahead and marry! I don’t care. As long as I’m not there,” crackled Camille through the intercom.
“Can’t you let me in and we can have a chat about this civilly?” begged Anthony.
“There is absolutely nothing to chat about. I don’t want you in or anywhere near my home at all, Anthony. Can’t you hear me loud and clear?” said Camille. “Please go away.”
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