The Things We Never Knew

by Megan Mayfair

  Arriving home, it felt like she’d been gone for days, and it felt like weeks since her ill-fated night out with Bebe. She let herself in the side door and walked through the kitchen.

  “Hi, honey”

  She started. “Dad! I didn’t see you!”

  He was at the kitchen table with a large mug of tea and a copy of the newspaper folded over. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said. “You’ve had a big day. You were gone long before your mother and I were up. Working early again?”

  She sat down next to him. “No. I got a call at two in the morning. Bebe collapsed. She has a brain tumour.”

  “That’s terrible. Is she going to be okay?” He frowned.

  “They are going to operate. Apparently, it’s small and they are hopeful it is benign. I really hope she will be all right.”

  “Poor girl. Are you okay?”

  Michelle nodded. “I think so. I felt terrible after the way I’d left things with her, but thankfully I was able to see her and apologise.”

  “I’m glad you got to do that. Is there anything we can do?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I’m going to try to get some rest. Maybe I can go back and see her later.”

  Wandering back to her bedroom, she sat on her bed. It was unmade from where she’d leapt up the night before, and cold. Very cold.

  Thankfully she wasn’t due in for work, and with nowhere else to be, it was time to rest and sleep. She pulled off her clothes and pulled on the shirt she had borrowed from Leon when they had attended the working bee at the preschool.

  She’d washed it, and folded it, intending to give it back to him, but when things ended so dramatically, she’d taken to sleeping in it.

  Slipping it over her head, she sat down on her bed and picked up the teddy bear from the arcade, and hugged it to her. It was soft and felt comforting and homely. After a moment, she picked her phone up, and looked at her social media accounts and one-by-one, she removed the apps from her phone.

  She wouldn’t go as far as deleting her accounts, but perhaps it would be nice to live her life as it was meant to be seen, not through a lens, filtered beyond all recognition. Life was so precious, why try to alter the reality of what was a really beautiful thing on its own?

  Chapter 46

  Bebe sunk back into the hard hospital bed, her body aching. The treatment following the surgery was going well, yet she still felt tired and weak from the drugs.

  “You’re doing well,” her doctor said, ticking off something on a notepad.

  Harry knocked on the open door, holding a bunch of purple tulips wrapped in brown paper.

  Despite her frustrations over her how tired she felt after the surgery and the ongoing treatment, she couldn’t help but feel a lift in her spirits as she saw Harry’s smile. He was there for her. No matter what. Many would run after recent events, but he was still there. With flowers. And a smile.

  And sometimes a chocolate cherry muffin from the café.

  “L’Or will be starting soon.” She looked up at him. “I have my visa and everything is ready for me.”

  He squeezed her hand. “I know.”

  The tumour had been benign and had been removed with great success, but there was still a lot of recovery and follow up treatment.

  Risks also meant that flying was off the table for her potentially for six months.

  She stared at his hand in hers. What if the doctors hadn’t been able to save her? What if the tumour hadn’t been benign? She’d never have felt Harry’s hand on hers, or seen these beautiful flowers, or smelled the freshly-roasted coffee he sometimes brought her, or her mother’s perfume.

  “But I’m alive, I should be grateful,” she said. She was grateful, yet, still. It was hard to say goodbye to a dream.

  “It’s okay to be sad at what you’re missing. But they did say you could go into next year’s intake.”

  “I know,” she said, and rested her hand on his. She wouldn’t be able to travel for many months so she couldn’t even imagine next year, but for the moment, none of that mattered.

  She squeezed it. “I sketched again today.”

  “Don’t overdo it,” he warned. “It’s not a race.”

  She smiled at his concern. “I’m fine.”

  “Cole messaged me. He’s going to visit tomorrow, if that’s okay? Michelle said she’d come in today after work, and she’ll bring some muffins with her,” he said.

  “Yay! The hospital hasn’t been as interested in giving muffins to a designer in residence as Espresso Walk was.”

  “Well, thank goodness we offer a delivery service for our favourite customers.” He smiled. “I helped your Mum move those boxes today.”

  “Thank you.”

  “She’s kind of a taskmaster. I’ve never worked so hard in my life.”

  “I know.” They had taken a longer lease on an apartment near the water. Her mother had also had a discussion with a local university and a gallery about some work while she was here, but it would be part-time. They were going to have a break while Bebe undertook treatment, and spend some time together, perhaps go down the Great Ocean Road where her father’s ashes had been scattered. “Is the apartment nice?”

  He nodded. “It’s a great place. You’ll see it for yourself in a few days.”

  “They’re really pleased with how everything is going.”

  “You seem so much better.” He cupped her chin. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “I know it’s a way off.” She hesitated. “When I go back to New York, I want you to come with me, if you’d like.”

  He smiled. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded. “My mother lost my father, and then I nearly lost myself. I want you in my life, but I also don’t want to give up my dreams.”

  “Then don’t.”

  “But what about your job? And your band?”

  He grinned. “I’m sure there’s a jazz bar in New York and a coffee shop with my name on it.”

  Their eyes met and they shared a kiss. She wasn’t going to go on her next chapter in life without Harry.

  “Knock, knock!” Michelle’s voice echoed through the room and Bebe scrambled to sit up. “Look at you! You look so great!”

  Bebe smiled and touched her head where they’d had to shave her hair for the surgery. She was certain Michelle was being too generous.

  “I brought you this,” Michelle handed her a cardboard box that smelled of chocolate and vanilla.

  “Thank you.”

  Michelle shifted her weight. “I also brought a visitor. It’s my father.”

  Bebe looked down at the box and ran her finger across the Espresso Walk logo. Greg Fitzgerald was here to see her? Would he be mad about what happened, and what she’d said? It wasn’t very nice to have someone accuse him of adultery.

  She met Michelle’s eye. “Is he angry with me?”

  Michelle laughed. “Of course not. He wants to meet you, and he found something at his office that he thought you might like. But if you’re not up to it, I can leave it for you. He won’t be offended.”

  Bebe looked at Harry, who gave an encouraging nod.

  “I’m happy to wait outside,” he said.

  She grasped his hand. “Stay.” She turned to Michelle. “I’d love to meet your father.” She should at least apologise to him.

  Michelle disappeared and returned with Greg.

  “It’s lovely to meet you,” Greg said. “I’m sorry to hear about the surgery and the treatment, but Michelle has told me you’re doing much better.”

  Bebe nodded. “The doctors are very positive.”

  He smiled. “That’s wonderful.”

  She knitted her fingers together and took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry about…”

  He held up his hand and she paused. “Don’t. It’s all forgotten.”

  “I was so silly. I got this idea in my head and then there were a few coincidences and I…”

  “Coincidences?” he asked.

  Bebe
blushed. “I get a rash sometimes from parsley.”

  “So do we!” Michelle said.

  Greg shook his head. “I don’t.”

  “What!” Michelle snorted. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugged. “I just hate the stuff and Jennifer used to put it on everything in such huge quantities. It really ruined her pasta sauces, so I told a little white lie in order to get her to cool her heels.”

  “But I get an itchy throat.” Michelle brought a hand to her throat.

  “Maybe you are allergic to it, but I just don’t like it,” Greg said.

  Michelle furrowed her brow. “Maybe I just don’t like it either.”

  “And the blood type. Michelle and I share a blood type.” She looked up at her friend. “O Negative.”

  “Michelle has the same blood type as her mother. I’m A negative.”

  Bebe pressed fingers to her nose. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know it must have been hard never to have known your father,” he said.

  “It was.” She glanced up at Michelle. She was lucky. Greg was so fatherly in his navy jumper missing a button at the collar, and his round face—the sort of comforting, old-fashioned, steady figure she’d never had in her life.

  He cleared his throat and removed a wooden picture frame from a paper bag that had been under his arm. “This is for you. I thought you might like this.” He held it out to her.

  She took it and inspected the photograph that lay inside the frame.

  He leaned forward and tapped his finger against the glass. “That’s Arne. I found this on the hallway wall at work. We’re not good at throwing anything out at that office, but I’m pleased we didn’t. I thought it should be yours.”

  Bebe traced her finger over the glass, looking at her father’s smiling face. “Thank you,” she whispered, blinking back tears.

  “He was a good man, Bebe. He had a great sense of humour, he was a kind soul, and he and your mother were a wonderful couple,” Greg said. “I’m so sorry that you never got to meet him, but I’m certain he’d be very proud of you.”

  Tears streamed down Bebe’s face as she studied the photograph of her father. Arne. She’d come home for answers. While they looked a little different to what she had anticipated, she finally understood her past and could look to the future.

  Chapter 47

  Michelle grunted as she heaved a large box of empty milk cartons and cardboard packaging into the recycling bin out the back of Espresso Walk. She dusted off her apron and pulled the door handle, but it didn’t open. She jiggled the handle, but to no avail. It was locked.

  She felt in her pocket for the keys, but they weren’t there. She tried the other, followed by the pocket in her apron.

  Where were her keys? She brought a palm to her forehead. She’d left them on the bench after she’d locked the front door. Great. She was stranded outside without her keys, handbag or phone.

  Pulling the door again for good measure, she then rested her head against it.

  This was first time she had been entrusted to close up all by herself and she’d ended up locking herself out. Tessa would think she was an idiot. Probably because she was an idiot. Who on earth did things like this other than her?

  Okay. She took a deep breath. It wasn’t time to beat herself up. Plenty of time for that later. She had to think. She needed to get back inside to get her things so she could drive home. Or did she? If she could find a way to call her parents she could get a lift home, and then a lift back tomorrow when Harry opened up. At least the premises were secure for the night.

  A wave of panic spread over her. She clasped a hand to her mouth. She couldn’t go home. She’d left the coffee machine on a rinse cycle. She couldn’t leave that overnight. What if the bucket overfilled with water and flooded everywhere?

  Not to mention the register hadn’t been tallied and there was garbage to take out from the kitchen. That would stink by the morning if it wasn’t removed.

  Think. She had Harry’s number, and Gabriel’s and Tessa’s, but they were stored in her phone inside. She glanced around. The pharmacy was still open, and she was certain they would let her make a quick phone call, but whom could she ring? She looked at her watch. She could try Double Shot if the pharmacy let her look it up in the directory, in case Tessa was there, but they would have closed by now. She was certain she’d be unable to Google the private mobile numbers of her colleagues.

  She took a deep breath. There had to be an answer.

  And just like that, there was.

  Leon.

  If anyone knew how to get in a locked building, it was him.

  But did she dare contact him after his last dismissal of her?

  But that was personal. This was business. His business. He was like a trained burglar. He could get her into Espresso Walk, retrieve her keys and her bag, and then she could lock up properly.

  She was more than happy to pay if the lock needed to be replaced. It was the least she could do given her stupidity. She’d been putting in such hard work at the café, she didn’t want Tessa to think she had been careless.

  Pulling her arms around herself to protect against the early evening chill, a little voice told her that she could call any locksmith.

  But she knew Leon. She trusted him. It was a shame he didn’t seem to trust her, but that was her own fault.

  She explained her situation to the pharmacist and he loaned her his phone. She punched in Leon's number.

  “Eastern Locksmiths. Leon speaking.” He sounded professional and helpful—the knight in shining armour who rescued flustered people who had locked themselves out of buildings.

  “Leon, please don’t hang up. It’s Michelle and I need your help. I’ve been locked out of work.” The words came out in a rush.

  The line was silent.

  “Leon? Are you there?” she repeated.

  “You’re locked out of work?” His voice sounded tense.

  “I am. And I’ve left the coffee machine rinsing. And all my stuff is inside. I need to get in.”

  He cleared his throat. “Okay. I’m on my way.” The line went dead. No goodbye, no niceties. He was only doing this because it was his trade. That was it—purely a business transaction.

  That was enough to save her work-wise, but it wasn’t enough to save her from heartache.

  She waited out the front of Espresso Walk. More shops had closed, and the local office workers had, largely, gone home. Even the pharmacy dimmed its lights and prepared to close.

  Finally, a set of headlights appeared and Leon's car pulled up. He turned off the engine and emerged from the cabin. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” she said with a small smile.

  He stepped onto the footpath, the streetlights illuminating him.

  Her heart lurched. He looked so incredibly gorgeous that the pain of not being able to wrap her arms around him or kiss him was almost physical. She’d appreciated how comfortable she’d felt with him over the past few months, but never how excited she’d been to see him. She’d pegged him as some safe option, and he was safe, comforting, and reassuring, but he was so much more than simply that.

  There was spark. Definite spark. And it was still there. For her at least.

  “This is your place?” he asked, taking a step towards her.

  She’d been too busy gazing at him lovingly, and was startled by his question. What did he mean? “Leon, I work here.”

  He shrugged. “Do you have any proof that you are entitled to enter these premises?”

  She stared at him. Why was he talking like a lawyer? She scoffed. “You know I work here.”

  “You did. How do I know you still work here?”

  She looked at the café and then back to him. What on earth was wrong with him? “Why would I pretend to work here?”

  He folded his arms. “Look, I’m a professional. I don’t think it’s unreasonable to ask to verify that I’m not helping someone break into premises they have no lawful right to enter.”

  S
he gestured at her apron. “I’m wearing the uniform. Leon, I don’t know what to say. If I can borrow your phone, I may be able to find Tessa’s social media account and message her, or Harry’s and ask, but”—she looked down—“I was hoping you’d be able to help me out. I know I probably don’t deserve it.”

  There was a pause and his shoulders relaxed. “Which door?”

  “The back, please. It’s only the lock. The front door is bolted from the inside as I had to do that first.”

  They walked around the back alley and she showed him the door.

  He removed some small tools from a box and within thirty seconds, the door swung open.

  “Thank you,” she said. “Wait a minute. I need to turn this coffee machine off.” She ran through to the café and flicked a couple of switches just as the water bucket was inches from overfilling and spilling onto the floor.

  “Phew! That was close.” She picked up the bucket and found Leon's arms reaching out to take it from her. Their eyes locked and her stomach flipped. “Thanks,” she murmured and looked away. It was hard meeting his perfect cornflour blue eyes and knowing they probably wouldn’t gaze at her in the same way they once had.

  “It’s heavy,” he said, placing it on the counter.

  “Yeah.” What had happened to their friendly and easy conversation? Yeah. That was the best she could come up with like a grumpy, monosyllabic teenager. “I really appreciate this,” she said, leaning back against the counter. “I screwed up in not taking my keys with me.”

  He shrugged. “If stuff like that didn’t happen, I wouldn’t have a job.”

  Was he angling for payment? Exactly how much of a business transaction was this? “I’m happy to pay you.”

  “That’s not what I meant. You don’t owe me anything.”

  She gripped the side of the bench and looked down at her sensible black work shoes before looking up to him. “I do, actually. I owe you an apology. I should have told you I was seeing Ashton that night.”

  “It’s in the past.”

  “But I also need to thank you.”

  He tilted his head. “Why?”

  “When I returned home, I wanted nothing more than to leave here, and get back together with Ashton. But as I got to know you, I saw how badly he treated me compared to how things were with you. It became so clear that he wasn’t good for me.”