‘I’ve seen a solicitor. They’ll win.’
‘Then we’ll get another solicitor. You can’t just give up, Hattie.’
‘I’m not giving up.’
‘How did this happen?’
Hattie stared at her. ‘I genuinely thought Gen and I owned it. I didn’t realise we didn’t.’
‘How on earth could you not know? Contract. Payment. Exchange of title. Hello?’
‘I was so young. So desperate. I didn’t understand. I spoke to the solicitors again yesterday . . .’
‘There must be a way. We can do better than Elliot Buddle. We can find a solicitor in Sydney. There must be a loophole.’
‘Alice, he’s contacted some colleagues. We don’t have a legal leg to stand on.’
Alice paced the café floor. She had to think. Had to stop the tumbling mess inside her head and fix this. Save her café, her life, her memories. She’d lost so much already. And now with Becca here . . . No. She wouldn’t lose again.
‘We’ll buy them out. Surely between us we can afford the land value. It couldn’t be worth more than 200 grand. Three, tops. I’ve got forty put away. Can you get the rest?’
Hattie shook her head.
‘A loan. Surely I’d be good for a loan now. For such a small amount.’
‘Well, we don’t know.’
‘Don’t know what?’
‘What they’ll want. If Buckley’s kids are anything like their mother, it won’t be that straightforward. They’re sending someone over to evaluate the place.’
‘What? When?’
‘In the next week or so.’
That wasn’t a long time to come up with any kind of money, any kind of plan.
Her legs buckled beneath her and she crumpled to the floor. Hattie lowered herself beside Alice and put her arms around her.
‘We’ll be okay, petal. We’ll be okay.’
Alice shook her head. Here she was again, just like when she was eighteen, her life unravelling before her, beyond her control. She clutched her stomach and fought down the bile.
Lawson’s Ridge, 2003
hree words. It was all Alice could do to remain upright after hearing those three words. Other words were being spoken, but they blended together into something quite incomprehensible and made no sense whatsoever. The mumbling and gasping of the crowd gathered outside the general store only made it worse.
One by one the group dissipated and Alice was left in the middle of the street, those three words echoing in her head.
She didn’t want to move but she felt her shoulders turn. Then she saw her feet step, one in front of the other, and a force stronger than she could fight pressed down on her, pushing her to sit on the hot, concrete kerb.
‘Are you okay?’ a voice that sounded suspiciously like Louise’s asked her.
‘Uh-huh.’ Alice nodded, not at all believing her own answer.
‘Look at me,’ said the voice and Alice raised her head. ‘He’ll be all right.’ Louise’s face came into focus. ‘You need to believe that.’
Alice nodded.
The three words repeated in her head, pounding again and again and again. Spinal cord injury. Thud, thud, thud.
She didn’t know what it meant. Not really. Only that it wasn’t good. It was all the information Mrs Jenkins had. Spinal cord injury, St Vincent’s, they’ll keep Mrs Jenkins updated. Medical professional to medical professional. As soon as Alice saw her walking past the store she’d rushed out. And everyone else had seen her too, following her so they could also hear the latest. It was all anyone was talking about. The most exciting thing to happen in Lawson’s Ridge in a long time.
‘Come on, Alice,’ Louise whispered, waving to her mum that she’d catch up later. ‘Maybe it’s not that bad.’
Alice looked up and saw the fear in Louise’s eyes. Not that bad? The hospital were only taking calls from family members and even then, apparently, weren’t giving much away. Alice knew enough of how hospitals worked to know it wasn’t a good sign.
‘Do you think Brian can drive me to Cutter’s Pass?’ she asked.
‘Sure. Why?’
Alice stood. ‘I need to go to the library.’
Once she was there, Alice pored over the only books she could find, hour after hour. Reading. Re-reading. Cross-checking. Louise and Brian had left her there after she’d insisted she could catch the bus home, and she’d entered the library determined not to leave without answers. Not that she was sure exactly what she was reading. Permanent loss of mobility in all limbs. Partial loss. Full recovery.
What did it all mean and which parts applied to Dean?
If she was understanding the information correctly, everything depended on how high or low the injury was, and that she didn’t know the answer to. She knew he was in intensive care. She knew it wasn’t good news. She knew she couldn’t get the picture on page twenty-five of the third book she’d read out of her mind: the young boy in the wheelchair, on a ventilator, able to move only his head, after falling off his horse.
She stayed in the library until closing and took the last bus back to Lawson’s Ridge.
A week was all she could wait. A week and no return of Mrs McRae and no further news from Mrs Jenkins.
Stuff hospital rules. She had to figure out a way to speak to Dean.
But what would she say?
Sitting on her bed, Alice wiped away nervous tears as her hand shook above the receiver. Could she pull this off? She’d rehearsed what she was going to say again and again. She wasn’t sure they’d put her through, but she had to try. She’d gone too long without news.
Hopefully he’d take her call. Hopefully he’d be able to.
‘Dean McRae, please.’ She mustered as much confidence and maturity in her voice as she could. ‘Intensive care.’
The switch put her through.
‘It is rest time,’ the nurse on the other end announced crisply. ‘Are you family?’
‘Yes,’ Alice said. ‘I’m his sister.’
‘Don’t be long.’
Alice waited.
‘Hey, Pond.’ Dean’s weak voice struck Alice and she put her hand over her mouth to stop from gasping.
‘How’d you know it was me?’ she asked. ‘I didn’t even tell the nurse my name.’
‘Who else’d be smart enough to say they were a sister I don’t have?’
Alice laughed. ‘Sorry. I wasn’t sure they’d put me through otherwise.’
‘It’s really good to hear your voice,’ Dean said.
The slight catch in his tone threatened to bring Alice’s tears back to the surface. ‘How are you?’
‘Not bad for a bloke who humiliated himself in such a spectacular way in front of the whole town.’ He laughed, then gasped with the effort.
Alice smiled and wiped away the salty drops on her cheeks. ‘It was only the whole school, not the whole town.’
‘Oh, that’s all right then.’
‘Everyone’s worried about you.’
‘I can imagine the rumours.’
‘No, really.’
‘Well, you can assure everyone that I’m going to be just fine.’ Dean started coughing. ‘Just fine,’ he whispered when he stopped spluttering. ‘It really is good to hear your voice.’
‘You sound tired.’
‘Humiliation can be exhausting.’ His words were very soft.
She didn’t want to push things, but she just had to know. ‘What have the doctors said? L3? T1?’
‘Pond, what have you been up to?’
‘Just a little research.’
‘I should have known. Maybe you should drop law and do medicine.’
‘I’m not sure I’d be cut out for it.’
‘You sound pretty convincing to me,’ he said quietly.
‘So?’
‘Insistent, aren’t you, Dr Pond? They don’t really say much in front of me. Not the technical stuff anyway. T9, incomplete. That’s what I’ve picked up so far.’
Alice wrote it
down, recalling her research.
‘T9’. Good. Lower limbs only.
‘Incomplete’. Good. That meant hope.
‘I pretend I’m asleep most of the time so I can listen in. They said my recovery so far is . . . encouraging. Yeah, that’s the word they used. And they’re happy my chest has cleared up. Bloody muddy dam water.’ He faked a cough.
‘And now you’re a poet.’ Alice giggled.
‘I guess so. I’m going to be stuck here for a while no matter what, though.’
Alice could hear the strain in his voice.
‘I’m sorry.’ He sighed.
‘What for?’
‘Ruining our plans for summer.’
‘Don’t be silly. All you need to worry about is getting better. And then, when you’re home, we can make new plans.’
‘Sounds good. Oh shit. Nurse Ratched is giving me the evil eye. I’d better go.’
‘Okay. I’ll call again. Or maybe I’ll write.’
‘I’d like that. Here comes . . .’
‘Dean?’
The phone went dead.
‘Hey, Tadpole.’ Bruce gave her a hug as she passed, blissfully unaware of his daughter’s pain. ‘Today’s going to be a good day. I can feel it.’ He looked expectantly at Alice.
She looked back at him blankly and left in silence.
Her shift dragged on, but at least she was occupied. Mostly. There was still plenty of time between rearranging stock on shelves and colour-coordinating the magazine rack for her mind to wander, and her thoughts kept turning to how she could help Dean. She’d been reading up on the power the mind had on recovery. Surely there was something she could do, even from so far away, to keep his spirits up.
‘Take the rest of the afternoon off,’ Mr Williams said, walking into the shop as Alice finished her third baked-bean pyramid. ‘You’ve been doing so many extra hours lately, you’ll run me out of business.’
‘But . . .’
‘No buts. Look at this place. If I leave you in here any longer today, you’ll have the rice bags hanging from the ceiling and chocolates melted and formed into sculptures.’
Why hadn’t she thought of that? She turned and caught a glimpse of Mrs Dobson’s car speeding away. Ah, she thought, no date today. That explained things.
‘Thank you.’ She stopped by the counter to pick up her bag and looked at the postcards on display. Three tiers of faded pictures showing towns around Lawson’s Ridge, towns people actually wanted to visit, and they’d been sitting there on the counter for years; as long as Alice could remember. Grandma Jenkins had bought one once, to send to relatives overseas, but Alice couldn’t recall any other sale since she’d worked there. Ever.
Wiping the dust off the picture of sheep from Cutter’s Pass, Alice pulled fifty cents out of her pocket.
‘You can have that one, Alice. Take as many as you want.’ Her boss waved his hand in front of the display.
Alice took a handful and slipped them in the pocket of her green cargo pants.
‘Thanks.’
Sitting on her bed, with Dean’s T-shirt pulled over her clothes, Alice twiddled a pen between her fingers. Over, under, over, under. She’d managed to write two words on the postcard before fear made her mind turn blank. What could she possibly say? In her head she imagined poetic words flowing forth, bringing hope and happiness. On paper, the lonely words ‘Dear Dean’ were hardly going to do the job. She would have to do better than that.
‘So, I’ve been thinking about when I get to Sydney and all the things we can do together. What do you think about the City to Surf? We can do it while you’re still in your chair and we can dress up and everything. A fun run to the beach. That’s not something we could ever do here in Lawson’s Ridge. What do you reckon? You game?’
It was funny how the days bled into one another. Alice had never thought of her life as anything even resembling exciting, or of Lawson’s Ridge ever offering hope of excitement to come. But the monotony of her existence had made the days become even more blurred. She worked in the store. She came home. She picked up after her father. She sent off postcards. She worked in the store. She came home. And on it went.
The only event of any note in her narrow world was the end-of-year school formal. But it was hard to muster any genuine enthusiasm, or even any fake gusto for it.
‘Come on, Alice.’ Louise tried to get her to try on the green satin dress that Alice knew she simply couldn’t afford. They’d been trudging round Cutter’s Pass all afternoon in search of two perfect dresses. It was easier for Louise, who looked beautiful in everything she tried on and who had the budget to pick any dress she liked. Alice refused to put any of the dresses on.
‘You can’t go to the formal naked, you know.’ Louise stepped out of the change room in a red gown.
‘Wow.’ Alice nodded her head. ‘You look great. But I can’t afford any of these.’
‘You really need to find something to wear, Alice.’
‘What’s the point?’
‘The point is you only finish high school once, so you may as well enjoy it. Do you think Dean would be happy seeing you mope around like this while Agony Annie is torturing him?’
‘Agony Annie?’
‘His new physio.’
‘Excuse me?’
With a flourish Louise flopped onto the chair in the corner of the shop. ‘I was talking to him. Yesterday.’
‘Oh.’
‘Brian made me ring.’ Louise scratched her left hand. ‘He pulled the helpless younger brother card. He only accepts I’m three minutes older when it suits him. He feels guilty about the accident. Reckons if he hadn’t egged him on, then . . .’ She shrugged. ‘But, big bad Brian’s too chicken to ring himself, so he made me do it. I gave the physio the nickname because it sounds bloody awful what she puts him through.’
Alice frowned. Dean had never told her anything about his physio sessions being hard, though she supposed they probably would be.
‘Which do you like best?’ Louise held up two stunning dresses.
*
At exactly 5.35 that evening the phone rang.
‘That was quick, Pond.’ Dean’s voice floated to Alice’s ears. ‘Waiting for my call?’
‘No. I’m far too busy to be waiting round for some guy to call,’ she mocked. ‘Just happened to be walking past when it rang.’
‘Liar.’ Dean chuckled.
‘How’s it going down there?’ Alice really wished he’d tell her more. Whenever she asked him, he always dodged the question. ‘How’s the new centre?’
‘Great.’
‘Liar.’
‘Nah. Actually, not too bad. This rehab joint is pretty good. Annie has upped the ante on my therapy. Strange woman seems immune to my obvious charms. She keeps wanting me to work harder. But one day I’ll crack her defences and she’ll give me a break.’
‘Agony Annie?’
‘You’ve been speaking with Louise.’
‘Yes. Funny that, seeing as we’re best friends and all. Why haven’t you told me how hard it is?’
Dean sighed. ‘I guess I just don’t want to worry you with boring detail.’
‘Being vague worries me more.’
‘Sorry.’
‘What about the doctors? You had your assessment today, right?’
‘I can count on you to be paying attention.’ Alice could hear the gentleness in his voice. ‘They seem pretty happy. Though sometimes I switch off when they’re banging on with their medical mumbo jumbo. The nurses and Annie are much better to talk to.’
‘And?’
‘They reckon it’s likely I’m going to have a good recovery.’
‘Really? You’re not lying to me so I don’t worry?’
‘If I keep doing what Annie tells me to, I’ve got a good chance at walking independently again.’
Alice heard the slight catch in his voice and wondered if he wasn’t telling her something. She hated speaking over the phone, unable to see him, read his body lang
uage. And once a week was nowhere near enough. Well, it wouldn’t be long till she was down there and could see for herself how he was doing and if he was holding anything back.
‘You will be fine, Dean. I know it.’
‘Yep. Fine and fat.’
‘Fat? What about all the physio you’re doing?’
‘All the physio in the world can’t counteract the cakes and slices Mum keeps bringing in. She’s found this amazing bakery and never visits without going there first. I think she feels a bit useless, you know? She can’t fix me, so she’ll feed me instead.’
Alice laughed.
‘Every bloody day she forces cream puffs and cupcakes down my throat.’
‘Sounds terrible.’
‘You’ve no idea.’
‘Well,’ Alice chuckled, ‘when you’re up and about again and I’m down there, you can walk it off by showing me around Sydney.’
‘I can’t wait,’ said Dean. ‘Uh-oh. The nurse is here to check my butt for sores. Every three hours she comes in. I reckon she secretly has a thing for my arse and it’s just an excuse. I might start charging her for a gander.’
Alice could hear someone talking in the background.
‘I’d better go.’
‘Okay.’ Alice sighed. Their calls were never long enough. ‘See you soon.’
‘Oh, and Pond, keep those postcards coming. Please. Gives me something to smile about in between phone calls.’
Alice hung up.
She pulled out the next postcard from the pile beside her bed.
‘So I’ve been thinking. When you’re back on your feet – and you will get back on your feet – why restrict ourselves to activities just around Sydney? I mean, there’s a whole wonderful world out there we can explore. I’ve always wanted to see the Great Barrier Reef. Dive with turtles. They are the coolest little creatures. Except they’re not that small. But diving with them and swimming over the coral would be pretty amazing. What do you say? Are you game?’
Kookaburra Creek, 2018
n the early morning light, Alice moved around the café performing the usual tasks that she had to do before opening up for the day. Except that she wasn’t really there. Her finger turned the coffee machine on, her arms lifted chairs down from their tables, her feet stepped across the floorboards avoiding table legs, but it was like she was on autopilot.
The Kookaburra Creek Café Page 12