‘Do you need a hand?’ Hattie rested her hand on Alice’s shoulder. She hadn’t gone home last night, but instead slept in Alice’s bed while Alice took the sofa. Not that either one of them got much sleep.
‘I don’t even know where to start.’
It was quarter to nine and she’d have to open soon. She wasn’t ready for service. Wasn’t ready to paint on her smile so no one would suspect anything was wrong.
‘Why don’t I take care of out here and you get started in there?’
Alice nodded.
In the kitchen she looked up to Sylvia.
‘Don’t fail me now, old girl.’
She leaned on the bench and waited, and Sylvia didn’t let her down.
Alice grated the zest from a lemon and juiced it using her favourite hand juicer. She beat the butter and eggs and sugar. Surely a bank would give her a loan. She measured the flour. Without owning the building, though, all she had for equity was the business.
With a rocking action she used her biggest knife to finely chop the rosemary. Maybe she’d have to look for new premises to lease. She licked the back of the spoon. Sweet. Tangy. Earthy. An inspired combination.
It was worth a try, if nothing else. And if that failed, she’d come up with plan B, plan C, as many plans as it took.
‘No harm in giving it a go.’ Hattie nodded when Alice told her the plan. ‘What have we got to lose?’
‘Only the café,’ Alice said, and laughed.
‘We’ll get through this together, petal.’ Hattie embraced her.
‘Oh, please. A woman your age, Hattie, should have more decorum in public,’ Betty entered the café.
‘And a woman your age should be so lucky as to have anyone who’d want to hug them back,’ Hattie shot back with a wink.
Alice smiled. No, she couldn’t lose this place.
Buoyed with a plan, Alice sailed through the rest of the morning and into the afternoon. She’d save this place, whatever it took.
The bell above the door clanged and Alice turned to see a young man in jeans and a red shirt standing there, looking uncertain. Tourists. A little early in the season, but you could always pick them.
‘Miss Pond?’
‘Yes.’ Why would a tourist know her name?
‘Sorry I’m late.’
‘Late?’
‘Sorry. You knew I was coming? I thought you knew I was coming. McKenzie. Stuart McKenzie from McKenzie Brokers. I’m here to value the property.’
Now? Already? Stuart McKenzie was not what she’d imagined – he was far too young and friendly to be in this line of work.
‘If now’s not a good time, I can come back later.’
She stared at him.
‘Miss Pond?’ He took a step closer.
‘Sorry. Now’s fine. What do you need?’
‘Why don’t we start with a tour?’
She moved him round the café into the kitchen, watching him scribble in his notepad. The tightness in her belly grew with each passing moment.
‘Charming. This place is so darned charming. What’s your annual turnover?’
‘It’s ahh . . . about . . .’
‘Never mind.’ He waved his hand. ‘I’ll need to see the books myself anyway. Whenever you’re ready.’
Alice nodded.
‘And how many employees?’
‘Two. Myself and my assistant. Oh, and my partner.’
He narrowed his gaze. ‘Just the three of you managing all this?’ he flicked through the papers she’d handed him.
‘Yes.’
Hang on. She snatched the papers back. ‘The Hargraves don’t own the business. They only own the property.’
‘True.’ The smiling assassin nodded. ‘But it does help gain an overall picture of the potential for the place.’
‘Well, you can’t have my potential.’ She folded her arms.
‘Fair enough. May I see upstairs?’
They weren’t entitled to her potential, but they were, unfortunately, perfectly entitled to her home. Alice almost retched.
‘This way.’
Stuart McKenzie opened every cupboard, walked through every room, looked out every window, muttering ‘charming’ as he went. He peered into every aspect of her life and Alice had never felt so exposed.
‘Thank you, Miss Pond. Can I trouble you for some afternoon tea?’
Surely he wasn’t serious. But the smile on his face said he was.
She watched him from the kitchen as he made notes, his eyes constantly wandering around the room. Just looking at him made her feel sick. Having to serve him too, was almost more than she could bear. She brought him a lemon rosemary cupcake and Earl Grey tea.
‘Mr McKenzie?’
‘Stuart, please. Mr McKenzie is my dad.’
‘How much will the valuation come in at?’
He shook his head. ‘I really can’t say just yet. I need to check out comparable sales which, given the unique nature of this property, might be difficult.’
My unique property, thought Alice.
‘And until I speak with my clients, I can’t really say anything.’ He shrugged.
Yes, your clients. Your evil, hateful clients who are trying to destroy my life. Well, Mr McKenzie, I’ll be ready for you and whatever price is named. In a few days’ time when I’m done with the bank, I’ll be ready.
‘Of course,’ she said, smiling. ‘I understand.’
Never before had Alice been so happy to get rid of a customer in her life. She couldn’t believe how much she was shaking when he left.
‘Alice.’ Becca burst into the café. ‘Can you tell this psycho to stop following me?’
Freddy stepped in behind her, his hands up in surrender. ‘I saw her leaving Betty’s and thought we could walk together.’
‘I was at Betty’s studying. Why were you there? So you could stalk me?’ She stepped towards him, her face full of anger. No, fear. Alice was beginning to recognise the difference.
‘It’s okay,’ Alice said calmly. ‘Freddy’s here to do the garden.’
‘What’s that got to do with following me?’
‘I’m really sorry,’ Freddy said, lowering his arms. ‘I was just trying to be friendly.’
‘Freddy, why don’t you go get started?’ Alice suggested.
He nodded and backed out of the room.
‘It was like he was waiting for me outside Betty’s place,’ said Becca.
Alice sighed. ‘That’s my fault, I’m afraid. I mentioned to him yesterday that you’d be there. I guess he decided to try and make friends.’
‘I don’t need friends.’
‘Maybe not. But if you change your mind, he’s actually one of the good guys.’
It took some fancy persuasive work to convince Becca that Freddy was in fact not a stalker, but eventually, after a snack and a debriefing of the day’s tutoring session, she conceded enough to perch herself on the wooden picnic table outside, knees drawn in tight, watching Freddy move about the garden. As he mowed and weeded and edged, Becca looked on, occasionally passing comment but mostly scowling. Unperturbed, Freddy went about his work, his mischievous smile never wavering. And all the while Alice hovered by the windows, moving around the café to ensure she had a clear view.
‘Don’t tell me you’re playing matchmaker again,’ Joey said, interrupting Alice’s spying.
She spun around and put her hands in her apron pocket.
‘Nothing of the sort.’ She threw her nose in the air as she brushed past him.
‘It wouldn’t be the first time,’ Joey continued, as he followed her to the counter.
‘And I learned my lesson.’ Alice busied herself with the coffee machine, though she was pretty sure she wasn’t fooling Joey at all. She was well aware – the entire town was well aware – of the disaster that ensued after she tried to set Carson up with Betty’s niece who’d visited four summers previous. The fact the poor woman hadn’t returned to Kookaburra Creek since, not even for a weekend, sa
id it all really.
‘Indeed.’ Joey nodded.
‘I just think it will do her good to have a friend. Someone her own age.’
‘Uh-huh.’ Joey was doing a poor job of trying not to laugh.
‘Are you here for something, or to pass judgment?’
Joey threw his hands in the air. ‘Coffee, Alice, simply a coffee.’
‘Good. Go sit down then.’
‘How is she?’ he asked, nodding towards Becca.
‘I think we’ve turned a corner, but it’s hard to tell. She hasn’t said anything, but whatever she’s running from she’s pretty darn scared of it.’
‘Have you asked her?’
‘I don’t want to risk pushing her away.’
‘Maybe that’s what she needs, though. To know you’ll listen.’
‘Maybe.’
‘I mean, between you and Hattie I’m surprised the poor thing has lasted this long without spilling state secrets.’ He laughed.
‘What are you suggesting?’
‘Not a thing.’ He bowed in surrender.
‘You’re impossible, Joseph Moretti.’
‘Impossible . . . ly good looking?’
‘Just impossible.’ Alice threw her tea towel at him and smiled.
The doorbell clanged again and Fiona Harris walked in.
‘Sorry I’m late.’ Fiona grinned and kissed Joey on the cheek.
What? No. Alice’s body felt unnaturally heavy. She’d watched Joey date before, on and off over the years. It was never anything serious. Nothing ever stuck. She’d seen Fiona waltz back into town plenty of times, have some fun with whatever bachelor within 100 kilometres showed an interest, and waltz right back out again. But something felt different this time. She wasn’t sure what but, whatever it was, she didn’t like it.
Becca came inside when Freddy left, went straight into the kitchen and started on the washing up. Maybe now was the time to ask her some questions? But Alice knew what it was like to have closely guarded secrets at that age. Becca would tell her when she was ready. If she ever was. Assuming they’d still all be there, of course.
Oh, Lord. In all the drama of the last forty-eight hours it hadn’t occurred to her that losing the café wasn’t just losing the café. It meant losing Becca. What would become of her if Alice had no job to offer? No roof over her head to provide?
‘Are you deliberately trying to scald me?’ Betty’s voice broke sharply through Alice’s thoughts. She was sitting with Claudine at the table beside Joey and Alice had just poured far too much coffee into her china cup.
‘Sorry,’ Alice muttered, trying to wipe up the spill.
‘You are off with the fairies today, child. What’s wrong with you?’
‘Sorry, Betty. With Becca and the thought of losing —’ She stopped herself, realising what she was about to say. Her cheeks burned. No one could know. Becca couldn’t know.
‘Losing what?’ Betty stared over the rim of her thick glasses.
‘Losing my mind, I think.’ Alice tried to cover her mistake. ‘Not with it at all today. Sorry.’
‘I’ll say. Leave your personal dramas at the door, Alice. This is a business you’re running here.’
‘Not for much longer,’ Alice whispered under her breath as she walked away.
She went to take Joey and Fiona’s order. Fate truly was a cruel master sometimes. They placed their order with Alice and went back to whatever hushed conversation they were so obviously engrossed in.
As she moved about the dining room seeing to the other customers, Alice kept an eye on Joey and Fiona, their heads close together the whole time.
‘Which table?’ Becca asked, coming into the dining room with two burgers.
‘Would you mind?’ Alice indicated table one, Joey’s table.
‘Oh.’ She frowned. ‘Sure.’
Maybe Alice couldn’t do anything about Fiona Harris, but that didn’t mean everything was lost. There was still the bank, and that meant hope. As dangerous as hope could be, she needed to hang on to it right now.
Lawson’s Ridge, 2003
he music spilling out of the school hall was loud and fast. Alice stood back from the gate in the shadows of the gums, watching happy, loved-up couples and noisy groups skip, step and stumble their way inside. The boys looked mostly like they’d made an effort to shower at least and be presentable, some of them even looking almost handsome in the collared shirts and ties they’d rented or borrowed. The girls, dressed in dark satins, teetered on unfamiliar heels, their hair coiffed professionally and piled on top of their heads, soft ringlets framing their painted faces. Louise arrived, beautiful in a sapphire blue dress that had been the most expensive in the shop. Alice still preferred the red, but it wouldn’t have mattered what Louise had worn, she would have been stunning.
She looked down at her own dress. A peach taffeta bridesmaid’s gown her mother had once worn in the late eighties. She’d done her best to alter it – taking the bum-bow off, de-puffing the sleeves, shortening the length. She’d done a good job, compared to what it looked like originally. But compared to the parade of perfectly fitted frocks entering the hall, well, Alice’s peach puff was a disaster.
She took a deep breath and stepped inside the large hall doors. Groups of girls started dancing in small circles and boys shuffled their feet left and right next to them in time with the music. Louise was the first to break the girl-circle, turning to dance with Bobby Jones. Then she turned again to move in sync with Doug Trainor.
The music changed and Louise went back to dancing with the girls. She didn’t notice Alice pressed up against the wall, watching on.
Alice sighed. This wasn’t right, being here without Dean. Slowly, quietly, she slipped back out into the warm November night and hurried down the path towards the protective darkness of Faraway Forest.
She could still hear the music from there, just, ever so softly carried on the light evening breeze. So many beautiful dresses. So many happy faces, and couples dancing together.
She slid her tattered ballet flats off and smiled at the relief her screaming toes felt immediately. Her mother’s feet had been much daintier than hers. The earth between her toes was cool and in sweeping arcs she pushed away twigs, crushing the fallen eucalypt leaves into the ground, releasing their sweet, oily scent. Her legs started to move to the rhythm of the faint music and she closed her eyes and danced in the dirt.
‘Those moves are wasted on an audience of trees.’
Alice spun round to see Dean wheeling towards her along the well-worn dirt path. A cry caught in her mouth. Even though she knew he was in a chair, to see him actually in it, to see the truth of it for the first time – she fought back tears.
‘What are you doing here?’ She ran to him. When she reached him she stopped suddenly, not knowing how to approach him.
‘Come here.’ He reached out and pulled her onto his lap.
Alice tried to stand up, but Dean held her firmly in place.
‘I don’t want to hurt you,’ she whispered into his neck, the smell of cloves and honey tickling her nose.
‘Then stay right here.’ He reached up and cradled her cheek in his hand. ‘God it’s good to see you.’ He kissed her firmly, gently. She could taste a lingering hint of coffee on his lips.
‘So,’ she said breathlessly. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Not complaining, are you, Pond?’
‘Not at all.’ She rested her head on his.
‘I convinced Mum that it was vital for my mental health and recovery that I come back for the formal.’ He grinned.
‘But you’re not at the formal.’
‘Neither are you.’
Alice punched him lightly in the shoulder. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’
‘I’m glad I’m here, too. When I saw you weren’t at the dance I had a hunch you might be here.’
Alice shook her head. ‘I just couldn’t face it.’ She scrunched up the peach satin abomination in her hand.
‘Hmm. I think this calls for something special. Hop up.’
Alice stood.
‘On the back of the chair is a backpack. Grab it.’
She did as he said.
‘Pull out the picnic blanket. You’ve already cleared a spot for us.’ He laughed.
Alice lay the blanket down.
‘In the bottom of the bag is a box. Careful, Pond. No, don’t open it yet. Pop it on the blanket.’
She did.
‘Now come here and help me out of this.’
Alice stared at him.
Dean beckoned her with his index finger. ‘You can’t do it from there.’
‘I can’t do it from anywhere.’
‘Of course you can. I can almost do it by myself. Couple more months of physio and I won’t need any help at all. But right now I do. Just a bit of support. Once you know the trick it’s easy.’
Alice stepped towards Dean. He told her how to brace herself, how to shift her weight. As she lowered him towards the blanket, she could feel her grip loosen.
‘I don’t think . . . oh shit.’ She dropped him the last few centimetres to the ground.
‘Oh my God. I’m so sorry. Do I call an ambulance?’ Alice saw Dean’s shoulders shaking. ‘Christ. You’re having a fit or something. I’ll go for help.’
She turned to run, but a hand on her ankle stopped her.
‘I’m fine.’
She looked down. ‘You’re . . . you’re laughing?’
‘Gotta look at the funny side of it.’ He pulled on Alice’s leg and she crashed down beside him. ‘Now we’re even.’
Alice snorted. ‘You’re still as crazy as ever.’
‘And you,’ he brushed her fringe aside, ‘are still just too cute for words.’
‘I didn’t hurt you?’
‘Nope.’ He shook his head and kissed her gently. ‘Tough as, I am. Doctor says I’m lucky. If the branch had hit me any harder, well, I might not be getting out of that thing ever.’
Alice sighed. Surely if he could be bright and happy, so could she. She pushed all negative thoughts from her mind as he opened the cardboard box.
The Kookaburra Creek Café Page 13