by C. J. Duggan
Roy waddled behind the counter. A balding, portly man with bandy legs, Roy lived in his navy blue overalls, changing only his flannelette shirt every day to mix up the look.
He retrieved an A4, navy exercise book from under the counter. Opening it, he licked his thumb and flicked through the pages.
“Now let’s see, M for Murphy, Murphy, Murphy, Murphy … Ah, here we go!” He pointed to a page.
By this time, I had pulled out my cheque book and held my breath, bracing myself for the figure. I wasn’t completely sure what I could contribute to the cause; it all depended on how massive the damage was.
Roy spun the book around to face me. “That’s what’s owing. – how much did you want to put on it?”
I sighed with relief. The tally read $465. I had thought it would have been much worse than that, running into four figure sums, at least. This, I could do. I wanted to make a statement, and paying off a portion wasn’t as grand a gesture as leaving a clean slate.
As I wrote out the cheque, I envisioned the look on his face when he came in to pay the bill and grinned to myself. Now that I would like to see. I had absolutely no remorse filling out a cheque for the $465. I knew between the verandah, the locksmithing, and the paint, all that would have exceeded the $465 mark. I signed off and tore off the slip and handed it to Roy with a smile. It was like a huge weight had been lifted.
I wasn’t getting free labour or special treatment, I was paying my own way and it felt good. I would keep my smug knowledge to myself, though. I knew Sean would eventually find out but if he wanted to be Mister Cryptic, fall-off-the-back-of-a-truck, I could be Miss Oops, my-pen-slipped-on-my-cheque-book.
Roy wrote me out a receipt and sealed the deal by placing the cheque in the cash register and slamming it shut. I felt like I could face anything, until I heard my name.
“Amy?”
Chapter Thirty-Four
I could hardly believe what I was seeing.
A lean, Amazonian, modelesque woman stood in front of me in three-quarter-length Lycra pants and a black sports bra that exposed a flat, toned tummy.
She didn’t wear a skeric of make-up – she didn’t have to; her skin was radiant and flawless without it. The only thing that masked her face were the silken wisps of brown hair that fell from her sleek, perky ponytail, which fell to the middle of her back. But it was those eyes, those big, blue, innocent eyes that I would know anywhere – they were the only thing that hadn’t changed.
Once I had stopped gawking like an idiot I managed to voice the only thing that popped into my mind.
“Tammy Maskala?”
“Oh, my God, Amy!” She laughed and folded her arms around me, almost squeezing the life out of me. I wrapped my arms tentatively around her, and yep, she was toned all right.
“I knew it was you; I heard your voice and thought that has to be Amy Henderson.”
The last time I saw Tammy was a couple of years ago and, um … She’d changed somewhat.
She had morphed from a mousey, knock-kneed schoolgirl into a bronzed, Amazonian beauty queen.
“Wow, so what are you doing with yourself these days?” I asked, trying not to openly stare.
“Oh, you know, I dabble …”
I smiled in good humour – dabble probably meant she worked part-time at the local video shop, or waitressed of a weekend.
“Yeah,” she continued, “I’m a personal trainer and studying for my double degree in biomedicine.”
My smile faltered. Holy shit, she was a fucking rocket scientist! I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. Even though it was just Tammy Maskala, the sweetest girl I had ever known, and I knew my twisted stomach hearing of her success was pretty rotten, the shock of seeing her was something that would take some time to sink in.
Oh, please don’t ask me what I’m up to. Please don’t ask.
“So what have you been up to? I can’t believe it’s been so long.”
Oh, you know, bar room brawling, scrubbing urinals, playing mind games with an older man, and that’s just the summer. I am actually a deferred university student-slash-couch potato leeching off my parents still.
“I’m on a break from uni and just came back to manage and oversee the renovations at the hotel.” It was kind of the truth. She didn’t need to know the details.
Tammy’s blue eyes softened. “I heard about your dad.”
Just what I wanted. Pity.
“And I saw the flyer around town for the working bee. It’s actually funny I ran into you here because I was going to come and volunteer.”
“No!” I blurted out a bit too vehemently, causing Tammy to blink in surprise.
“Um, it’s just that we’re simply inundated with volunteers. It’s actually getting a bit ridiculous. Everyone’s enthusiasm has been overwhelming so we’ve had to put a cap on things.”
Oh my God, what is wrong with me?
“Oh, okay, well, if you need anything let me know. I cook a mean barbecue.”
I was flooded with guilt seeing her sweet, coy smile, the same one I remembered. She had ‘changed’ but she was still the same.
“Thanks, Tam.”
We said our goodbyes, which included an open-ended “we must catch up,” like people say when they know they’re not going to follow through with it; it’s just what you do.
As I left the store, I was gripped by an overwhelming sadness. Sometimes, and of late it was most of the time, I really didn’t like the person I had become. At least when I was a teenager I could be excused for being immature, but now I had no excuse. Words played through my mind.
“Unlike you, when I walked up those stairs I wasn’t playing any game. But I guess that’s the big difference between you and me.”
The memory of Sean’s words cut me to the quick. I slammed the car door behind me. He was such a hypocrite! He was the biggest game player of them all.
“He assured me you’re not his type.”
That bothered me more than anything, and the fact that it did bother me bothered me a whole lot more. Christ! I banged my head on the steering wheel, once, twice, three times. I sat up to see Tammy had just come out of the shop and seen my little display of self-loathing.
Shit! She smiled weakly and gave a small wave as she put her headphones back on and started to jog across the road, in a long-legged, graceful way. I watched her in my rear-view mirror, still hardly believing how much my old best friend had changed. I turned the ignition and Roxette’s ‘She’s Got The Look’ blasting from the speakers, taunting me. I slammed my finger on the eject button.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, she’s got the look,” I muttered.
Whatever!
As I drove back to the Onslow, the wind in my hair, my spirits lifted as I thought about the mission I had just accomplished in fixing up Sean’s account, I smiled a small, knowing smile. It was the only secret I had been keeping of late that I could truly be happy about. By the time I sped up Coronary Hill and made a wide, sweeping turn into the drive, I had started grinning like a fool. That was, until I nearly drove straight into a truck. I slammed on the brakes, my heart leaping in fright at the unexpected thing in the drive.
“What the—”
The massive tray to the semi was tilted, pouring white pebbles onto the ground. A cloud of dust carried on the air as the load dropped onto the drive.
I shut off the engine and got out, my brows creased in confusion until I saw an unmistakable speck in the distance, leaning casually on a rake. In his bone-coloured work pants and white singlet top, he actually looked like a catalogue model for work gear, but I quickly wiped that from my mind. I slammed the car door and crunched my way across the new stones towards Sean, who was now pushing the massive pile with his rake. He hadn’t even seen me; he was too busy signalling to the driver to move forward before whistling and telling him to pull up.
“What’s going on?” I yelled over the truck’s engine.
Sean turned, sporting an expression of pure innocence. “What?”
I pointed to the mountain of pebbles.
Sean followed my line.
“Oh, right.” He nodded as if he had just caught on. “Now this,” he pointed, “this really did fall off the back of a truck.”
I just shook my head. I had thought I was so clever, paying his account, but all that was now obliterated by a truck full of fine white pebbles that were resurfacing our large driveway. As far as I knew, the driveway had only ever been partly re-stoned by Dad via the odd tandem trailer; it was just too expensive to lay it down by the truck load.
A truck load just like the one before me.
If Sean was angry at me from last night, he said nothing. His mischievous eyes looked down on me in a silent challenge, smirking from the bottle of water he took long, deep swigs from, his eyes firmly set on me. It was the Sean of old, and if he didn’t want to bring last night up then I wouldn’t either, and I certainly had no plans to, until, of course … I did.
“Why aren’t I your type?” I blurted out.
Oh my God … shut up!
Sean choked on his water and coughed so hard he banged on the wall of his chest, his eyes watering.
I swallowed deeply, almost wishing that the truck would back up and bury me in a mass of pebbles rather than having to wait for his answer.
“Sorry?” he croaked out.
Oh, shit! Did I seriously have to repeat myself? Maybe he hadn’t heard the question over all the noise, but the way he was looking at me now with this uncertain, troubled look in his eyes, I had no doubt that he had.
“Never mind!” I said, my voice a little too high, a little too cheery. “I better go see how they’re getting on with the kitchen.” I walked a wide berth around Sean – knowing how lightning quick he was with his reflexes. I didn’t want him to try to stop me, or demand that I explain what I was talking about.
He didn’t.
I walked a straight, determined line towards the Onslow steps.
Don’t look back. Don’t look back.
I was adamant in that much until I managed a quick glance across the drive as I opened the main door and our eyes locked. His attention was only snapped away when one of the workmen called his name. I took that moment of distraction to dive into the Onslow and hoped that I could hide myself away for the rest of the summer.
If not, at least for the rest of the working bee.
Chapter Thirty-Five
I followed the sound of ‘April Sun In Cuba’ blaring from a radio out in the beer garden.
The sound was momentarily out-blasted by a power tool and some barked orders.
The sliding glass door was left open, revealing a war-zone-like mess beyond: piles of raked leaves and overgrown hangings of ivy that had been pulled and cut away, revealing slithers of sunlight to pierce through the space. It was an absolute mess, but somehow I managed to see beyond all that. Instead, I saw something else entirely. I saw a mass of people all working together.
A weathered, older man was hand-sawing an overhanging branch; Stan was sanding down the picnic tables; while Ringer followed along after him and applied a fresh lacquer on the exposed wood surface. Adam was wrestling rather unsuccessfully with the blower-vac, while Tess worked at lining up the plastic cups along a little trellis table, ensuring that the horde of workers had a supply of cool beverages. I hadn’t entirely lied to Tammy – it seemed we were crowded with volunteer helpers. A gathering of people of varying ages carried rubbish loads and clippings – they were basically gutting the whole space in order to build it up again. I wasn’t wholly familiar with many of the faces but at a guess I’d say some were Dad’s mates lending a much-needed hand. I swallowed hard, overwhelmed with heartfelt gratitude.
“Beep-beep,” sounded the upbeat voice of Tess’s dad, Jeff McGee. He ushered me out of the way, carrying a tray of sausages.
“The restaurant’s looking good, Amy,” he shouted over his shoulder.
Holy crap, the restaurant!
Lured by the music and voices, I had completely bypassed the restaurant. I dived back inside. How could I have missed it? The walls were now coated in a warm, crisp, clean beige. Portland Stone. It had lifted the entire space. I could hardly believe it was already finished.
The sound of money rattling in a tin snapped me from my inspection as Ellie appeared beside me.
“Want to enter the raffle?”
“Raffle?”
Ellie held a tin and a raffle booklet. “Yep! It’s part of the fundraiser – first prize wins a meat tray donated by Don the butcher.”
I smiled. “Probably not a good idea if I enter. If I win, people might suspect foul play.”
Ellie nodded. “Very true. Probably not a good look.”
“I tell you what looks good, though …” I turned to give the room my full attention again.
Ellie grinned with pride. “Not bad, huh?”
“You guys did an amazing job.”
“Ah, well, as much as I would like to take all of the credit, we did have a little help.”
I curved my brow.
“You didn’t honestly think the three of us could have done it so quickly on our own? Between Tess’s meticulously slow painting and Adam’s “ooh, I love this song” disruptions with every song on the radio, we would never have finished.” She shrugged. “So Chris called in some reinforcements.”
“Hell, yeah, I did,” Chris said. I turned around to find him leaning against the open sliding doorway. His face grubby with dirt, his white shirt and jeans covered in grime, he wiped his brows with a gloved hand.
“Welcome back,” he said, readjusting his sleeve. A pang of guilt spiked through me as I thought how I had been busy joyriding while everyone else had got their hands dirty. Even strangers were working harder than I was. Truth be known, I hadn’t exactly expected anyone to show up to the working bee, but I had obviously underestimated how the locals felt about my dad.
I curtsied. “I am but your humble servant, Christopher.”
“Ha! That will be the day.” He pushed off from the door frame and headed back towards the beer garden. “How about you help out with the barbecue?” he yelled over his shoulder.
Barbecue? Now that I could do!
***
A long line of dishevelled, grotty workers waited patiently as one by one they claimed their well-earned lunch. Sausages or hamburgers with onions and coleslaw.
“God bless Don the butcher.” Tess’s mum, Jenny McGee, smiled. “That man is a saint.”
“I can’t believe he donated all this for the working bee.” I looked over the massive pile of meat on the barbecue.
“That’s Don for you,” added Jeff as he stirred up a pile of cooked onions on the barbecue.
I was on bread and meat duty, having been given the task of asking, “Onions or coleslaw?” Tess was on drink duty, with Coke, Diet Coke, Fanta, or Solo at the ready.
We worked like a long-lined production team, not missing a beat, feeding the hungry masses with a joke and a smile. Yeah, I could work the Henderson charm all right.
Ringer got to the front of the queue and grinned like a fool. “Just coleslaw please, Amy.”
“What, no onions with your burger? Got a big night planned then?” I teased.
“You never know your luck in the big city.” He laughed.
“Wise choice, Ringer – onion breath, not hot!” My eyes settled on a group of Dad’s friends. “I think there are going to be some really unhappy wives tonight.”
Ringer grimaced as he moved on to grab a drink from Tess. I was still laughing when I turned to the next in line.
“What will it…?” I paused, my words falling short as Sean stood before me, with an unnerving gleam in his eyes.
“Be?” he finished off my sentence.
From being someone who was totally killing it on the food station, proving myself to be quite the caterer extraordinaire, I had managed to completely lose my nerve and turn into jelly in one foul swoop. I stammered and clumsily knocked over the sauce bottle,
only to nearly fall backwards as my legs hit the back of the esky.
“Whoa, look out!” laughed Jeff.
Smooth, Amy, real smooth.
Acting as if nothing had just happened, I quickly gathered myself, trying not to look at Sean’s crooked grin. Instead, I grabbed for a slice of bread and confidently looked at him.
“Sausage or burger?”
Sean watched me unflinchingly. “Burger.”
Right, easy. Get it together, Amy.
I grabbed the tongs and a pattie and placed it on the buttered bread. Yep, no problem. So far so good.
“Onions or coleslaw?”
“Coleslaw thanks, Amy.” The way he spoke my name on his lips sounded too intimate for such a public place. It sounded low and promising.
Oh my God, maybe there was a gas leak on the barbecue because I was clearly losing my mind. I worked lightning fast to hand over his hamburger with a serviette, just wanting him to move along the line and be gone.
“Ha! No onions for you either, Murph?” Jeff asked.
Sean grinned. “Well, you never know your luck in a small town.” He was speaking to Jeff McGee, but he was looking directly at me. He grabbed for the sauce and applied it liberally to his burger, then placed it back on the table and winked at me. I watched Sean make his way over to join Toby and Stan at one of the finished tables.
“You might want to close your mouth,” Tess whispered, elbowing me in the ribs. “There’s a few flies hanging around the barbie; you don’t want to swallow one.”
I snapped my mouth shut, forcing myself not to blush furiously. I couldn’t figure Sean out. It seemed that last night’s stint hadn’t changed his ways and, although he had left my room in a bit of a tizz, he certainly hadn’t carried it over to today.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The smell of cooked onions and barbecue smoke stinks!
After everyone had gone home I jumped in the shower. I lathered my hair into a soapy beehive, singing into my Pantene bottle as Eric Carmen’s ‘Make Me Lose Control’ blasted from my little radio. I was squealing up a storm until I heard pounding on the bathroom door.
