by Cate Kendall
‘Tori!’ Jess exclaimed, walking into the cafe to greet her friend.
‘Hello, daaarling!’ Tori smiled, and gave Jess a bear hug.
‘You haven’t been down in ages. I’ve missed you,’ Jess replied.
‘I know, bloody weekend sport. It’s a real pain. I’ve half a mind to have the boys join the local footy team down here.’
‘You should, then I’d get to see you more often,’ Jess said as they sat down at a corner table.
‘I was kidding, I like their limbs intact, thanks all the same. I’ve heard how rough the locals play.’
‘Hmm, good point,’ Jess answered, looking round to see her new waitress standing in the corner frowning at a box of napkins.
‘Trixie, two lattes over here, please,’ she called with a wave.
‘Oh, sorry,’ Trixie said, dimpling her cheek. ‘I didn’t see you there.’
‘Is she new?’ Tori asked, stowing her Fendi Zucchino bag safely under the table.
‘Yes, still learning the ropes. Last Wednesday was a nightmare: she left meals going cold in the kitchen while she fiddled with her iPhone. Somehow she’d changed it to Mandarin and then couldn’t read the phone menu to change it back to English.’
‘Well, she seems nice. By the way, the place looks brilliant, Jess,’ Tori said, looking around. ‘And the gallery has so much great stuff to buy. I can’t decide on that duck-egg blue vase or the canvas totes. I think I’ll get both, they’ll work well with my summer theme this year.’
‘Yes, I’ve made it summer-ready,’ Jess said and followed her friend’s eye around the room appraisingly. ‘The holiday hordes are about to hit.’
In the corner the overstuffed sofa piled high with cushions sat behind a sixties boomerang-shaped coffee table. Magazines from the seventies and eighties spilled from an old brass newspaper rack on the floor. The fireplace, cleaned of winter’s cheery warmth, was decorated in Jess’s signature styling with accessories from the nearby beach: driftwood sticks with shells and urchins dangling from their limbs.
‘I love how you make the cafe look like just one more of your sculptures,’ Tori commented.
‘Thanks.’ Jess squeezed her friend’s hand. ‘That’s what it feels like for me too. Aaaand,’ – she drew the word out for dramatic effect – ‘you’ll never guess what happened to me last week.’
‘Ooh, gossip, you know how I love that, sweetie,’ Tori said. ‘It’s almost as fun as shopping!’ She smiled her thanks as the waitress put a frothy coffee before her.
‘Thanks, Trixie.’ Jess waited till the girl was out of earshot before she continued. ‘I had a very interesting visitor, and an even more interesting offer.’
Tori squirmed with excitement. ‘Don’t hold back, darling, give me the details.’
‘Well, I don’t know if I’ve ever told you about Jimmy McConnell?’
‘Hunky heart-throb from design school?’
‘Oh, yes, I did, ridiculous really, can’t believe I had such a crush. Although he’s still rather gorgeous. And anyway, he’s offered me a job.’
‘What? Where?’
‘In town!’
‘No way!’
‘Yes way.’
‘Where in town? That’ll be great, you’ll have access to much better retail opportunities. What would you be doing?’
‘I would be a designer, chief designer in fact, at Mimsy Baxter’s Still Life.’
‘Wow, Jess, that’s brilliant. I love that store. I’d never send a bunch of flowers ever again – why would you when you could send a sculpture? I love their stuff. I’m in there all the time snapping up gorgeous bits and pieces.’ Tori’s eyes shone with excitement.
‘I know. Mimsy’s fab, isn’t she?’
Tori gave a shrug. ‘Well, you have to take the job of course,’ she said.
‘You think?’ Jess twirled one long blonde curl around her finger. ‘You really think I should?’
‘Of course, darling, it’s exactly what you need. It will be a breath of fresh air after the sadness of the past year and you’d be much closer to the boys up in the city.’
‘I thought of that,’ Jess nodded, dropping the tendril of hair. ‘Imagine if Graham changed his mind and let me see them sometimes; how amazing would that be?’ She clapped her hands with excitement at the idea. ‘It really could work, couldn’t it?’
Suddenly her face clouded over. ‘But then again, this is my home. What about the store, the gallery, Springforth and...’ An image of Nick’s smiling face flitted through her mind. ‘...And, you know, my friends down here?’
‘Darling, it’s the city, not Europe,’ Tori scolded, lightly tapping Jessica on the wrist. ‘You have everything running smoothly here with Linda in control, and Melbourne’s only an hour-and-a-half away. You could come home on weekends and have the best of both worlds.’
‘Yes, that’s true. There’s nothing really stopping me,’ Jess said, and chewed her thumbnail thoughtfully.
Tori waggled a finger at her. ‘What about Nick? What will he say?’
Jessica frowned. ‘What are you talking about? What’s Nick got to do with it?’
‘Found your problem, Jess,’ came Nick’s voice from the kitchen. ‘I found what’s making the god-awful smell.’
‘Oh, Jeezuz! Keep it down!’ Jess leapt up from the table. ‘Excuse me, Tori, kitchen issue. I’ll get Trixie to bring you some lunch.’
As she entered the kitchen, she fumed. ‘Could you not announce to the entire restaurant that we have a stinky kitchen?’ she demanded.
Nick’s cheeky grin emerged from the manhole. ‘Keep your hair on, Red. Look.’ A dead mouse dangled by its tail from his fingers.
Jess flew over and slammed the lid on a stockpot that was bubbling away precariously close to the carcass.
‘Shit!’ she whispered in horror. ‘We haven’t got mice, have we?’
‘No, this little guy’s a one-off. The traps are all empty and the bait hasn’t been touched. Have you noticed any mouse droppings?’
‘None at all. You’re a star. How about a steak sandwich for your efforts?’
‘With fries, cos I’m about to nail that loose verandah board down.’
‘Your prices have gone up,’ she told him, smiling.
‘I’m a skilled worker, you know. You can’t expect me to charge mere bread and water.’
She laughed as she wrote down his order and took it over to the chef.
It was funny that Tori had mentioned Nick. It wasn’t as if they were an item – never had been – though they’d been the closest of friends at high school. Back then he’d constantly had a troupe of admirers happy to be his girl but he’d never settled on any one favourite. Then, during their HSC year, Imogen had come along with her sleek big-city attitude and had finally tamed the most popular boy in school. They’d got married after she fell pregnant but tragically the baby had died just after birth and the relationship ended soon after. Nick had simply seemed to disappear for a few years after that, and when he did resurface it was without his trademark confidence and easy smile. Both had taken longer to restore, but now he seemed to be in a good place again. Four years ago, just before she met Graham, Nick and Jess had picked up their friendship where it had left off. Nick had been an absolute star since Graham walked out, supporting her through the darkest times, but they were still just best friends and nothing more.
‘I’m off, darling,’ Tori said, peeping around the swinging kitchen door.
‘We haven’t finished our chat,’ Jessica protested. ‘I haven’t even asked about your life.’
‘Never mind, I can see you’re busy. Hi, Nick.’
‘G’day, Tori,’ Nick said, leaning against the bench. ‘I’ll get to your place tomorrow first thing.’
‘Thanks, that’d be fabulous. I might catch you at home later, Jess. But right now, I’m going shopping: there’s a new homewares shop in Red Hill.’
Then she looked back at Nick as a thought struck. ‘Hey, you don’t know a cobweb guy, do
you? I have cobwebs in the corners of my windows and I need an HLM to get them off.’
‘An HLM?’ Nick asked.
‘Yes, a Helpful Little Man,’ Tori said. ‘I’ve never done cobwebs before and I don’t know how.’
‘Er, yeah, I’ll think about it,’ Nick said, wondering quietly if the city folks’ requests could get any more bizarre.
‘Grazie, ciao,’ Tori said and waggled her fingers on her way out the door.
Nick dug through his toolbox for a hammer. As he stood, Jess suddenly had a throat-closing thought. ‘Oh my God, your birthday’s coming up, isn’t it?’
‘Well, you could say that, in fifty-one weeks.’
Jess looked up and cringed. ‘What? You mean I missed it? It was your birthday last week? Oh Nick, I’m so sorry I forgot. I’m such a ditz.’
‘Don’t be silly, we had a nice day together anyway.’
‘When was the twentieth? What day was that? Tuesday? Oh shit, Nick, that’s the day we cleaned out my filthy gutters. What kind of birthday is that?’
‘The best kind,’ Nick replied. ‘Sludgy leaves, rusty gutters, possum poo and you. Doesn’t get any better than that!’
‘I am so sorry,’ she said. ‘I had it in my mind the week before; I even knew what I wanted to give you.’ Bugger, she thought. She’d planned to buy him an iPod shuffle so he could listen to his favourite music while he worked, but somehow she’d just lost her train of thought yet again and forgotten one of her closest friends.
She sighed and shook her head. ‘Sorry,’ she said again.
Nick smiled at her as Trixie brought him over his steak sandwich. ‘You could just give me a kiss,’ he grinned and made a grab for her.
‘Oh stop it, you flirt,’ she said and whipped him with the tea towel.
Trixie stuck her head back in the door. ‘Have we got any milk?’ she asked.
‘Did you look in the other fridge, the one in the storeroom?’ Jess replied.
‘Oh, yeah,’ the waitress said and went back into the cafe.
Nick rolled his eyes. ‘How do you stand it?’
‘She’s nice,’ Jess replied. ‘There’s more to a waitress than just remembering orders and serving food, you know.’
‘This place would grind to a halt without you,’ Nick said as he poured tomato sauce all over his chips.
‘Hmm,’ Jess replied, dropping her gaze. ‘We’ll see.’
‘What does that mean?’ Nick asked.
‘Well,’ – Jess grabbed some bread and ham to make herself a sandwich – ‘I was thinking of maybe trying something new for a while – in the city.’
‘What?’ Nick put down his knife and fork. ‘You can’t leave here, Jess, it wouldn’t suit you. Look at you, with your whacky clothes.’
Jessica assessed her Bettina Liano skirt and distressed Collette Dinnigan tee and shook her head at Nick. She thought the look was pretty fashion-forward really. But she wondered how the chic professional women of Melbourne might see her. Maybe Nick was right. ‘Oh settle down,’ she said. ‘So what if I do stretch my wings? This will always be home.’
Nick fixed her with a steady gaze. ‘Is this something to do with that bloke who was in the store the other day? The one in the tosser suit and the wanker car?’
‘Nick, can you not be such an alpha male for one second? That was Jimmy McConnell, you don’t know him. He’s the second-in-command at Still Life in Melbourne.’ Jess slathered mayo on the rye bread and added some of chef’s new chutney.
‘Still Life? Never heard of it. What did he want?’ Nick asked through a mouthful of chips.
‘I knew him at design school and he just wanted to toss some ideas around, that’s all.’ Jessica definitely wasn’t about to reveal details of the job offer while Nick was in such a filthy mood.
He grunted.
She arranged some roasted capsicum and fetta on her sandwich and sliced it into triangles.
‘Well, I’m off,’ Nick announced, wiping the edge of his mouth on his sleeve.
‘Bye,’ Jess answered, as he sauntered out the door. It was a relief to be rid of his grumpy face for a while.
That evening Jess pulled into her driveway and killed the engine. She stared at the weatherboard homestead that sat amid the dry paddocks. The last rays of sun stroked its west wall and the orange glow settled on her arum lilies, staining them peach.
How much longer could she face walking into that empty house? She couldn’t believe she used to grumble about the noise and nag for the kids to pick up their Lego.
She sat in the car, dry-eyed and empty. She was so tired of faking brightness and cheer all day.
Jessica clearly remembered the day Graham and the boys had come into her life. She’d been walking from the kitchen to cross through the cafe when she’d noticed a little shoe wiggling from the top section of the shelving unit. She’d sped up her journey, fearing the worst. Sure enough, a baby, about a year old, had managed to use the shelves as a ladder and was now balancing precariously between the linguine and the one-and-a-half-metre drop to the timber floor.
‘What are you doing?’ Jess had grabbed the chunky, squirming babe around his tubby little belly. ‘Are you a monkey? This isn’t a palm tree, you know!’
The boy squealed and kicked his little legs in glee at having been caught. Jessica laughed. She loved children, she always had, and this one was gorgeous with his wispy soft blond toddler bob, red denim overalls, and eyes the colour and clarity of a Whitsundays’ sky. Jessica felt a tightness in her chest, one she hadn’t known was even there, snap and release. It was like ice-cream melting on the inside.
‘Who are you?’ she whispered as she stood there, holding this magic little person around the waist.
‘Callum?’ A deep rumble called out and the owner of the voice quickly followed. A tall, thin man emerged from the glass hallway that led to the gallery.
‘Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking for you.’ He sounded very terse but Jessica could only presume he’d been worried.
‘I am sorry, has he been bothering you?’ the man asked. At his first glimpse of Jessica, a smile came to his tanned face.
‘Not at all, I just rescued him from the top shelf, that’s all. I was worried he might fall. But no harm done, he’s delightful,’ she said as she reluctantly handed her new charge back to his dad.
‘No, he isn’t!’ The man looked at his son disbelievingly. ‘Oh, you’re a monkey!’ he said. The scolding was met with peals of giggles. The child clambered up to his dad’s shoulders and grasped handfuls of the thick, overgrown ginger hair.
Jessica giggled right along with him. ‘That’s exactly what I called him!’ she said. ‘He certainly likes climbing.’
‘Yes, too much, I’m afraid. He’s a real worry.’ He leaned down, unattached Callum and placed him on the ground. Doing so allowed his eyes to wander over Jessica’s open, friendly face, surreptitiously taking in her attractive figure and her wild blonde locks.
‘His name is Callum, and I am Graham,’ he said putting out his right hand to shake Jessica’s. Their eyes met and Jessica smiled shyly at Graham’s frank and open gaze. The freckles smattered across his whole face made him seem even more youthful than he probably was. His grin, with head cocked to one side, was both enquiring and endearing – it gave him a cheeky quality. She decided she liked him. And she definitely liked Callum.
‘Hello, Graham, hello, Callum. What a pleasure to meet you both.’
‘Ooooof.’ Graham suddenly lost his footing as a small towheaded dynamo barrelled in from the gallery door and slammed into his leg. ‘And this little hurricane is Liam. Liam’s older than Callum by eighteen months.’
‘Thirsty!’ Liam said, arms still in a firm grip around his dad’s legs.
‘Well let’s have a chocolate milkshake then,’ Graham said, and smiled at the boy. ‘Would you like to join us?’ Graham asked Jessica and indicated the cafe. ‘Apparently this is a wonderful spot for a snack, and I’d love to thank you for saving my son.’
Jessica smiled, wondering how to reveal that she was in fact the owner. But this concern was quickly overshadowed with another quandary: was it appropriate to sit down for a drink with a very attractive father?
As if he read her mind, Graham followed up the invitation with a subtle disclaimer. ‘The boys don’t get to be around female company too often; you would be doing me a favour.’
Oh, he’s single, she thought, and eagerly accepted his offer. Four months later Graham and his boys moved in with her and a wonderful new life began.
She drew in a deep shuddering breath and noticed that her car was now enveloped in darkness. She needed some strength and inspiration to keep going. There was only one place to turn. She picked up her mobile and rang her dad.
5
His phone bleeped, the cork popped and the intercom buzzed simultaneously. ‘Ya gotta love the busy city life,’ Richard laughed to himself. ‘Come on up,’ he said into the intercom, then placed the bottle on the bench and pressed accept on his mobile.
‘Hello, baby girl,’ Richard boomed into the phone. He still hadn’t worked out that mobile phones didn’t need to be yelled at. ‘Please tell me I can order the hit-man ... okay, I’ll hold off for now, but let me know, and pow – marketing-manager brains all over the Saab windscreen ... What do you mean? ... Okay, okay, too graphic.’
Still chatting, Richard opened the front door to let Genevieve in. She air-kissed him and, dropping her bag on the hall table, went to pour the open bottle of champagne. As usual, Genevieve was impeccably dressed; she always managed to be both classic yet fashionably up-to-the-minute in her style. Her Camilla Franks sequined caftan top was in the bright colours of tropical North Queensland and her bright orange Fendi buckle-toe pumps peeped out from under her straight-leg Bogner pants, which had been tailor-fitted to show her slim frame.
‘So how are you, darling girl? How’d the store go today? ... A mouse huh? Got traps set? Good girl ... Yes, he’s a good man ... You been on a date with him yet? ... All right, I’ll stop playing Cupid, he’s just such a great bloke though ... Have you done all your setting up for tourist season? ... I bet it looks lovely. Well done, you’re a marvel, girl, you really are ... Has the council approved the plans for the back deck reno? ... God they’re slow.’
