Silver Lining

by Diana Simmonds

  The bird shrieked afresh and frenziedly flapped in the moment before Amanda grasped and enveloped his wings in a hold that he seemed to find immediately comforting. Right away he stopped squawking as she tucked him beneath her arm while her gentle voice crooned to him about his handsomeness and uncommon bravery. Slowly Amanda opened her free hand and let him see the corn; for a moment he ruffled his neck, cocking his head suspiciously from one side to the other, his beady eyes taking in the ruinous tidbits, then he reached forward and grabbed one kernel and golloped it down, then another and another.

  “That’s quite a party trick.” Clancy’s amused voice came from the doorway to the main house and it was Amanda’s turn to leap out of her skin. It set the cockerel screeching again, but she stroked his neck and soothed him with a couple of clucks and the remaining corn and he settled once more.

  “You startled me,” she said to Clancy who, she noticed, was already clad in her favored faded blue denim shirt and frayed cut-offs.

  “Bet you startled him too, stupid bird. I’ve been looking for him everywhere. God knows how he got out. The foxes will have him one of these nights.”

  “Foxes? In Australia?”

  “Afraid so, introduced by the early gentry so they’d have something to hunt when they’d finally got rid of the blackfellas.” Clancy was examining with interest Amanda’s bare legs and her houseguest blushed, realizing how ridiculous she must look, especially with a large cockerel cawing dreamily under her arm.

  “I learn something every day,” she said feebly. “Would you like to take him back to the pen?” She made to hand over the bird but Clancy took a step back.

  “Oh no! I’m no good with them. I don’t do chooks. Why do you think I asked you to feed the damn things? You’ll have to take him.”

  Amanda’s eyes widened and she laughed. “You mean there’s actually something that fazes Clancy Darling?”

  Clancy’s eyes narrowed and she thrust her fingers grumpily through her hair. “I wouldn’t say that,” she began and then obviously thought better of it as her face softened into a sheepish grin. “Well, okay, I would, if I’m being honest. Bloody things give me the creeps. All that shrieking and pecking.”

  Amanda felt her insides turn over as Clancy’s face was transformed and humor softened the hard planes, allowing her amazing beauty to emerge.

  “So, you carry him and I’ll make you breakfast. And you don’t mention it to Malcolm. Deal?”

  Amanda took a deep breath and stopped staring. She nodded. “Deal.”

  Clancy nodded and pushed her sleeves up her arms. “Better get something on your feet, can’t have you ruining your pedicure.”

  Amanda took another deep breath, decided not to snipe back, mainly because she couldn’t think of anything good enough at that minute, and with a reassuring chuck under the chin for Wilbur she slipped back to her bedroom for the sandals. When she emerged Clancy looked her up and down and her expression was one of mild amusement.

  “Is that what poultry whisperers are wearing on Fifth Avenue this season?” she asked, carefully appraising the tailored khaki linen shorts and creamy, cap-sleeved Armani blouse.

  Amanda ignored the jibe and said instead, “Okay, let’s go,” her chin and gaze challenging Clancy to say just one more word.

  After depositing the cockerel safely in the run Amanda followed Clancy to the kitchen and poured a mug of coffee from the pot on the table. Clancy busied herself at the stove with a frying pan and pointed at the toaster with a spatula.

  “Sit and butter some toast for us.”

  Obediently, Amanda sat and began spreading pale, creamy butter on the thick slices cut from a crusty home-baked loaf. She was already far too accustomed to the fresh-churned butter and her mouth watered at the prospect.

  “Where’s Malcolm?”

  “He went into town, something about going to the bank.” Clancy grinned and wiggled her nose. “Which doesn’t open until nine thirty. Truth is, he’s suddenly discovered Jonny Sparrow’s coffee. And Jonny Sparrow, although he didn’t say that exactly.”

  Amanda laughed. Clancy’s nose wiggle was cartoon-like and charming. It seemed to say something about what she might have been like as a little girl—before a sore heart had had time to firm her beautiful face into the tight-lipped reticence behind which she habitually sheltered. Amanda sighed aloud as she watched the cook’s breakfast preparations and Clancy turned and caught her staring.

  “What’s up? That was a big sigh.”

  Amanda blushed and shrugged, caught out and unable to think of a plausible excuse. “I…um…” She shook her head and, as so often happened, the lightness in Clancy’s expression turned to something closed and remote.

  “You must be bored out of your brain,” she said and her tone had changed from warm to chill, in an instant.

  “No, no! I’m not—please don’t think that. It’s lovely here. It’s so different. I love it. Wilbur, Tommo…I’m…” Amanda stopped and her mouth remained open; she knew she was looking like a goldfish. Clancy had that effect on her. “I’m gabbling as usual,” she said sheepishly, feeling the blush growing hotter. She took a deep breath and decided that for once in her life she’d say the first thing that came into her head. “Actually, I was thinking that I wished I could wiggle my nose like you can, you look like a cartoon. It’s really funny. It reminds me of a Disney character. And…I’m gabbling again.”

  Clancy’s eyes were round with astonishment and she touched her finger to her nose, as if remembering something from long ago. Then her face softened and she grinned at Amanda as, again, she twitched the tip of her nose. “Ah yes, the Wabbit twitch,” she said and it was her turn to blush. “It used to drive Malcolm nuts because he can’t do it. I forgot all about it. I didn’t realize I still do it.”

  She turned away abruptly and scooped eggs onto two plates, took a tray from the warmer and forked crispy bacon strips beside the eggs and placed a plate in front of Amanda. She sat across the table and picked up the coffeepot, her eyebrows performed a question mark and Amanda held out her mug across to be filled. Clancy filled her own mug and carefully set the pot back down on its trivet and they regarded each other for a long, almost amiable moment.

  Amanda shifted in her chair; it nearly killed her to be without the protection of makeup as she watched Clancy regarding her. Clancy, who had the darkest, longest eyelashes and most ironically shapely brows she had ever seen. Along with unblemished, glowing skin and absurd freckles, Clancy also had a smile that was made perfect by the crookedness of one of her two front teeth. Clancy’s eyes crinkled at the corners as she put her head on one side and looked at Amanda with frank appraisal.

  “You look about twelve when you don’t wear makeup,” she remarked matter-of-factly, and Amanda felt another flush rise up her cheeks. She put her hands to her face in a vain attempt to hide the blush and peered at Clancy from between her fingers.

  “I’m thirty-two,” she said sharply. “So do you mean I’m childish?”

  Clancy snorted and raised her eyes to the ceiling. “God no! Don’t be so damn defensive. I mean you look gorgeous without all that crap you usually slap on.”

  “Oh, thanks. I guess that’s a compliment?”

  Clancy sat back in her chair, a forkful of bacon halfway to her mouth, and frowned and smiled simultaneously. “What is it about us that we can’t go two minutes without getting under each other’s skin?”

  Amanda forced her chin to drop from the pugnacious angle it had assumed and it was her turn to frown and smile. “I honestly don’t know,” she said softly. “I’m sorry—I’m a guest in your home and I…” She shrugged helplessly. “I really like you, in a funny way, I don’t know why.”

  Clancy’s eyebrows rose, and Amanda grimaced.

  “No—that came out wrong! See—it’s hopeless. I just don’t get it. Why are we always arguing? Malcolm is my dearest friend and I’ve been a pig to him, as he’s probably told you.” Clancy shook her head. “Well, that’s because h
e’s a decent person. I don’t deserve him. I’m going to try to improve. I promised him that.”

  “Improve?” Clancy’s eyebrows did their amused questioning thing again.

  “I’m selfish, self-centered and really awful, I’ve decided,” Amanda said, in a rush. “I’m learning such a lot from him and, well, I’m sorry. That’s all.” She picked up her fork and stabbed it into the egg, not daring to look at Clancy. She watched the golden yolk bubble up and begin to trickle down onto the toast, but it took forever and finally she glanced up.

  Clancy was regarding her with gentle eyes and a slight smile. Amanda smiled back tentatively as they spontaneously reached across the table and gripped hands.

  “Is this another peace treaty?” Amanda asked hopefully and Clancy laughed.

  A few minutes later Clancy laid her knife and fork neatly side by side on the empty plate and set it to one side. She peered at Amanda over the rim of her mug, her eyebrows question-marked. “So, where in hell did a Wall Street banker learn chicken whispering?”

  Amanda dragged her thoughts and eyes away from her companion’s face and took a deep breath. “Okay, chickens.” She deliberately slathered honey over her toast, took a bite, munched it thoroughly and swallowed with obvious pleasure. “As you know, poultry actually isn’t big on Wall Street,” she said, and licked honey off her thumb. “My mom has always kept hens at Heron Creek. When I was a kid I discovered I could make chickens do what I wanted. It was my party trick. The guests thought it was cute and—as you now know—it can be useful.”

  “Wow,” Clancy breathed, her eyes wide with amazement. “I was sort of joking, but you really are a chicken whisperer!”

  Amanda grinned. “Helluva talent isn’t it?”

  “Probably more useful than knowing all there is to know about derivatives,” Clancy said and her twinkling eyes belied the sarcasm of the retort.

  Amanda sighed. “I’m sure you’re right,” she said sadly. “I checked the news on my iPhone this morning and it’s even worse than yesterday.”

  “Catastrophic, I’d call it,” said Clancy. A frown clouded her brow and her jaw perceptibly tightened as her lips clamped down on what Amanda saw was a panicky intake of breath.

  “What is it?” Amanda asked, reaching across the table in an instinctive gesture to comfort her but Clancy drew back, although she stopped short of what her expression suggested was going to be a “mind your own business” response. Instead she looked at Amanda for a long narrow-eyed moment then shook her head and sighed.

  “Malcolm hasn’t told you what’s been going on here has he?”

  “No, not really, but he did say he was coming home to help out.”

  The sound Clancy made was half snort, half laugh. “That’s a bit like telling you he’s going to raise the Titanic,” and with that retort her broad shoulders slumped; she suddenly looked tired and every day of her forty-one years.

  “Tell me, please,” Amanda said softly. “You can’t leave me in the dark if it’s that bad.”

  A suddenly restless Clancy began to fiddle with the pepper grinder and Amanda could see uncomfortable thoughts and fears visibly flitting across her face. Clancy set down the grinder, stood up and paced the kitchen, unconsciously twisting a strand of curls between her fingers, a frown clamping down on the glitter of unshed tears. Amanda watched her for a moment then made a decision. She cleared the dishes into the dishwasher and wiped the table free of crumbs, and then, as Clancy’s anxiety began palpably to build, Amanda grasped her gently by the arm and steered her to the back door.

  “Let’s walk,” Amanda said. “It’ll do us good. Come on.”

  For a moment Clancy stared at Amanda as if at a complete stranger, but Amanda tightened her grip on the stiff forearm and said quietly, “Come on. We’re going for a walk and you are going to talk to me.” Clancy searched Amanda’s eyes for a long uncertain moment then, without further prompting she nodded.

  At the word “walk” Jessie had leapt off her bed and they headed out into the morning. Words began to pour out of Clancy like a long held back dam breaching as she led the way around the house, across the garden, through the trees toward the cove and the walking track that skirted the cliff edge.

  It was a story that sounded ominously familiar to Amanda: after a hundred years quietly chugging along minding its own business, Two Moon Bay was no longer flourishing. The reasons were familiar too: fish no longer as plentiful, only a handful of boats leaving its safe haven on any given day, others rotting on the beach or sold to pay their owners’ debts. The sawmill closed five years and deserted; the timbermen long gone, their pockets temporarily full of cash from city types who’d bought their quaint old homes to use as holiday cottages.

  “But that means the houses are empty most of the time and the new people pushed up the prices so locals can’t afford them anyway,” said Clancy. “They don’t use the village except the café, the school might have to close because we don’t have enough kids. It’s happening everywhere, I know, but it’s happening here.”

  She stopped and hunched her shoulders in a shiver, even though the sun was keeping the sea breeze at bay. She stared out to sea and Amanda stood beside her, watching unhappiness doing harsh things to Clancy’s profile. Tentatively she reached out and placed her hand in the center of Clancy’s stiff back and began to rub her palm in a circular motion between the rigid shoulder blades.

  “It is happening, all over the world,” she said softly. “And it has been for a long time, but that doesn’t make it any better. The thing is, I actually believe things will begin to turn around before too long. If we can hang on long enough. And you know that more than anyone.”

  Clancy snorted and pulled away from Amanda’s comforting touch. “Who’s ‘we’?” she asked, her eyes glittering gray and unfriendly. “Not Wall Street, surely?”

  Amanda sighed took back her hand and grinned slightly. “No, I didn’t mean Wall Street, although that’s always looked after itself,” she said, her voice calmer than she thought it might be. “I actually mean my mom in her small town and you in yours. She’s facing the same kind of problems: the town is struggling, she doesn’t get as many guests and the ones who do come want more for their money, don’t want to stay as long. People are moving on and the ones who’re arriving aren’t really that interested in the community—yet.”

  Clancy shrugged and smiled a tight little concession. “Yep,” she said grudgingly. “All that, but it’s the dairy too: milk costs more to produce than we get for it to be picked up by the tanker. And if my accountant hadn’t figured out how to offset the losses against my income as a journalist, we wouldn’t be here. But even that’s gone now that I’m not working full time in Sydney. The book got a lot of publicity; hostile reviews and press from the finance sector, paid a year’s interest on the loans. End of story.” Impulsively Clancy picked up a shard of sandstone from the cliff path and flung it violently toward the sea. They watched it twirl in the air as if in slow motion before disappearing from view.

  “I hope nobody’s down there,” Amanda observed as she peered toward the cliff edge. Clancy chuckled, a strangled harsh sound.

  “Maybe a gull or two, but nothing else. Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Amanda shrugged. “No matter. So where are you at with the economic hole?”

  Clancy sighed, oblivious to the sparkling morning and flurries of small chirruping birds that flitted from one flowering patch of scrub to the next.

  “Well, I don’t know what I can offset next,” she said flatly. “And I have absolutely no idea where to turn or what to do.” Clancy’s shoulders shivered once more and despite her sensible self telling her not to, Amanda again reached out and again placed her hand on Clancy’s back and rubbed gently in the circular motion that her mother had always used to soothe her terrors. This time Clancy didn’t move away but sighed, shook her head and almost leaned back into Amanda’s hand.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she repeated softly. “
It’s lovely that Malcolm’s come home, but I honestly don’t know what he thinks he can do. And now this damned global crisis looks like it’s going to push the country into recession, or even depression.” She glanced at Amanda and shook her head.

  “The truth is, the bank is pressing for bigger repayments. It’s not our local bank manager anymore of course, it’s some hotshot pipsqueak in Sydney. And I think we’re stuffed. I think we’re going to lose everything in this town.” For the second time that morning tears glittered in her eyes and this time she failed to suppress the flow. She turned away as they streamed down her cheeks. “I’m sorry—it’s nothing to do with you, I don’t know why I blurted all this out.”

  Amanda moved close behind Clancy and clasped the weeping woman in her arms, and despite the momentary stiffening of the shoulders and back, refused to let go.

  “I’m Malcolm’s friend,” she said quietly to the back of Clancy’s neck. “I’m yours too if you’ll let me and it has everything to do with me because of that and because I asked you and you’ve told me—and I’m glad you did. You shouldn’t be trying to deal with this by yourself.”

  They stood together, facing out toward the horizon where the deep blue of the Pacific met the cloudless bright blue of the early summer sky. Amanda rocked Clancy to and fro as if she were a child as her tears splashed onto Amanda’s bare forearms and caught the chill of the breeze. She began instinctively to croon a lullaby of comfort and succor that had somehow surfaced from her childhood.

  “Hush little baby don’t say a word, Momma’s gonna buy you a mockingbird…” She grinned to herself, her cheek resting on Clancy’s shoulder, and remembered Eleanor rocking her and softly singing on a night when a nightmare had woken her. Unto the generations, she thought, and within the circle of her arms, Amanda sensed Clancy’s unyielding limbs gradually begin to relax.