Melbourne Memories (Heart of Australia)

by Marion Ueckermann

  Now was not the time to tell her he knew. Maybe there’d never be a time. “I’m from the other side of Hyde Park. Chelsea.”

  Ella’s face lit up. “Where the flower show is held?”

  “I guess.” Justin had never paid much attention to flowers.

  Ella and Justin chatted about London, about Melbourne, about the world, and by the time he remembered to glance at the clock on the wall, it was already nine-forty. Where had the time gone? If he didn’t leave now, he’d be late. And he couldn’t afford that. Today was the last Safety, Amenity and Performance Review for the year to obtain a busking license. He needed to get onto the streets and start earning an income with his music.

  But could he perform without being high? It had been so long since he’d played for anyone. He had used the lonely hours in his upstairs room to practice one of his new compositions for this review, and it sounded good. Would the slower pace of the music and the spiritual undertones of the lyrics be acceptable to the review board? More importantly, would this music sound totally different to what he’d played with the band?

  Rising from his chair, Justin slipped the New Testament into his backpack. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. I’ve an appointment, and I can’t be late.” He wrapped his fingers around the guitar case handle.

  Ella rose, too.

  “Thank you for the coffee. And the chat. That was kind of you.” Justin stuck out his hand, his sleeve inching up his arm as he did. He set the guitar case down fast and tugged at his sleeve. He did not offer the handshake again. “I have to go.”

  “See you tomorrow?” Ella asked as he made his way to the door.

  He nodded. God willing, he’d live to see another day.

  Where was Just Phoenix off to in such a hurry? And how did he know her surname? Around these parts, she was known only as Ella. She liked it that way.

  And those tattoos? How far up his arm did they go? Why cover them? It seemed he was hiding his identity. No doubt his name wasn’t even Phoenix, although it was a nice name.

  So many questions. Emotions rippled through her. Caution. Fear. Intrigue. Concern. Even pity. She refused to satisfy any. Except perhaps intrigue. The man fascinated her. She wanted to know his story.

  “Thanks for filling in, Andy.” Ella slipped on her apron and grabbed a tray of newly washed cups, stacking them on top of the espresso machine.

  “Any time, Ella. You’re the boss. You say jump, we say ‘how high?’” Andy chuckled and picked up his notepad and pen then headed for the table of four who’d entered and seated themselves.

  “So…” Mackenzie elbowed Ella as she slid a clean filter basket under the grinder. “Don’t keep me waiting. Tell me all about your coffee date with the mysterious Brit.” Mackenzie wasn’t just Ella’s employee. She was her best friend. They shared all their secrets.

  Ella remained silent while she finished stacking the cups.

  Customers were waiting, so Mackenzie returned her attention to her coffee making. Ella echoed her actions on the other side of the four-lever eight-cup espresso machine as they worked in harmony, pushing out orders in double time.

  “Are you going to tell me or not?” Mackenzie shot her a look that said, ‘you’d better, or else’.

  Ella chuckled, shaking her head. “It wasn’t a coffee date.”

  “Right…and we’re not the most popular coffee house this side of the Yarra.”

  Mackenzie turned the steam knob to purge the wand. The silver snake-like rod hissed, spewing vapor like a dragon whose fire had been extinguished.

  Watching her, Ella knew she’d have to respond or never hear the end of it. Without a doubt, her friend was antsy for details on the juicy bits.

  “He’s really nice…”

  “But?”

  “He’s hiding something. I’m going to find out what.”

  Stopping for a moment to dust her hands on her apron, Mackenzie turned to Ella. “How exactly do you plan to do that?”

  “I’ll spend time with him when he’s here, get to know him. I’m sure he’ll open up to me given time. I can see it in his eyes.”

  His eyes… Dark, smooth, addictive—like a double-shot espresso, and guaranteed to keep her awake at night.

  “Ella?” Mackenzie snapped her fingers in front of Ella’s face.

  “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”

  “I said, be careful. You don’t know him from Adam.”

  Ella slid a coffee-laden filter into the brew head at the same time as Mackenzie, ignoring her friend’s warning. She had to get to know Phoenix. She couldn’t shake the feeling that embers still clung to his wingtips.

  Like synchronized swimmers, they both reached for the cups Ella had stacked. Each placed two cups under the double spouts and pulled their levers forward. While the water slowly filtered through the coffee, dripping like honey into the cups, the two baristas got to work on frothing and heating the milk.

  “Sooo, why do you think Mr. Brit has something to hide?”

  “Phoenix. His name is Phoenix.”

  “Ella, even his name suggests a questionable past.”

  Ella turned off the steamer and removed the jug. Should she tell her? She turned the steam knob once more to purge the wand. Puff, the not-so-magic dragon, let out his last burp of vapor. “I don’t think that’s his real name.”

  Mackenzie turned to her, hands on her hips, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. “You don’t say? Does that exonerate him from the question mark on his past?”

  Ella smacked her arm. Not hard. Just a friendly warning. “This is serious stuff. I’m certain Phoenix is in trouble, big trouble, and needs help—maybe even wants help, but doesn’t know how to ask.”

  “You could tell all that from one cup of coffee? A single coffee date?” Mackenzie banged the milk jug on the counter to get rid of any bubbles.

  “It wasn’t a coffee date.”

  “Oh, I think it was.”

  Ella tipped her jug and poured the heated milk slowly into one cup. When the cup was almost full, she moved the jug from side to side, wiggling the flow of milk. The latte heart on the tan surface heralded another perfect cup. She cast her gaze to Mackenzie. “Do you know what he does at that table for an hour every morning?”

  “As little as possible?”

  “Mac! I believe he’s been having his quiet time. He had a small Bible open on the table this morning. He’d been reading Psalms.”

  “No way. That does shed a different light on the Brit.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Time will tell, I guess.”

  Ella created a different heart shape on the second cup then handed the order to Andy. On the other side of the counter two customers stood entwined in each other. The lovebirds didn’t even notice her waiting to take their order. Maybe she should give the cups she’d handed Andy to them. Seriously? This is a coffee shop. Get a room.

  She glanced at the young woman’s hand wrapped around her boyfriend’s neck. No ring. She’d reserve her comment—would be bad advice—and cleared her throat instead.

  “Good morning. Sorry to keep you waiting. What’ll it be?” Ella put on her Ella’s-Barista-Art-Café grin while she waited for them to untangle their arms and lips.

  “No worries,” the young man said. “Two flat whites to go.”

  Please?

  As Ella prepared the order, her thoughts returned to Phoenix. Lord, I’ll befriend him, try to get him to open up, but I’ll need your help. A little extra time each morning would be a great start.

  CHAPTER THREE

  ELLA UNLOCKED THE COFFEE SHOP with one idea in mind—it was her afternoon off, and she would ask Phoenix if he’d like to spend it with her at the beach. What better way to get to know someone than basking in the sun on Brighton Beach while listening to the ocean lapping at the sand?

  The moment he sat down with his flat white, she’d bring him another complimentary muffin—Strawberry Cream, their special of the day. Who didn’t like strawberries and cream? An
d then she’d ask him about the beach. If her courage didn’t fail her.

  The next hour passed in a blur. Seemed the closer they got to Christmas, the more people took time out for coffee, even this early. The music filtering inside each time the door opened was amazing—made the steady stream of customers more bearable. Must be a new busker. Goodness, he was talented. Voice smooth as chocolate. And his guitar playing made the others seem like amateurs.

  She leaned over the counter to see a little further down the promenade. But all she could see was the crowd gathered around the busker. She’d have to step outside if she wanted to see this brilliant musician and listen to him close up before he moved on to his next spot. Buskers were only permitted to play in one place for two hours, and he’d started just after seven. One great thing about the busking rule was that it did make for ever-changing entertainment outside her café. But when it came to this guy…she wouldn’t mind if he stayed for good.

  Soon as she’d chatted to Phoenix, she’d take a ten-minute break outside.

  Ella glanced up at the clock. Again. Almost eight. She blew out a long steady breath. She hadn’t realized until now how much courage she’d need to muster to do this. Stay calm. Worst case, he turns down the beach offer. Nothing lost. Nothing gained.

  Five past. Ten past.

  “Mac, what time do you have?”

  Mackenzie glanced at her wristwatch. “Same as the clock on the wall.”

  “Oh.” He’d probably be along shortly. He wasn’t that late. She placed a small paper coaster, branded ‘Ella’s’ on a side plate and set a Strawberry Cream muffin on it. She returned the muffin on the plate back to the bakery display case and bumped Mackenzie with her elbow. She pointed to the muffin. “Don’t let anyone take that. It’s reserved.”

  “I hope for you, and not a certain unshaven guitarist.”

  Ella couldn’t tell if her friend was teasing, or serious. Too bad if she didn’t approve. She was doing this—finding out Phoenix’s story. “You know they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach—”

  “Take care his heart isn’t where you end up.” Mackenzie handed the caffè macchiato to the regular waiting on the other side of the counter.

  An interesting notion. One that strangely did not repulse her. And if she felt something more than kindness in return… Could she fall in love with someone like Phoenix?

  “I’m only interested in the heart of his story. And he has one. Besides, I told you, he looks like he could use a friend.”

  “He and a thousand others living on Melbourne’s streets.” Mackenzie shot Ella a glance. “You can’t be serious about trying to get to know this guy. Why?”

  “I am. And I don’t know why. There’s just something about him. Besides, he’s a Christian—”

  “And you know that how?” This time her friend full-on glared at her. “Reading a Bible does not necessarily make the reader a believer. You don’t know whether he’s dangerous.”

  “It’s just a muffin.” There goes telling her about the beach idea. “And I don’t think he’s homeless.”

  “You don’t? Why exactly?”

  Oh, she had to go and open herself up to this conversation. If she told Mackenzie why she thought that, her friend would only accuse her of discriminating—which she wasn’t. It was merely an observation.

  Ella turned her attention to the lattes for two Asian women Andy had seated, and began painting dragons in the foam. She added another dusting of cocoa to get the shading right.

  “That’s ace!”

  Ella glanced up from her work. Two young teenage boys leaned over the counter. The one elbowed his friend. “Did you see how fast she did that?”

  Ella returned his compliment with a grin. “You could do it, too. Just takes practice.”

  “Heaps of practice.”

  With a laugh, Ella placed the two tall glass mugs with their perfect dragons onto a tray and called for Andy.

  She turned around to find Mackenzie staring at her, hands on her hips, the green checkered dish towel she held in one hand trailing down her hip.

  “Are you going to answer my question or not?”

  She’d act innocent. Pretend she’d forgotten. “What question?” Ella turned her attention to the next customer and smiled. “Good morning, ma’am. What’ll it be, today?”

  The middle-aged customer bit her lip. “A cappuccino, and—” She nibbled on the edge of her finger. “Ooh, I can’t make up my mind which muffin to order. They all sound so delicious.”

  “I can recommend the special for today—Strawberry Cream.”

  “That sounds good. I’ll take one of those.”

  Mackenzie gave Ella a gentle nudge with her elbow. “Well?”

  “Oh, all right. I don’t think he’s homeless because…”

  Mackenzie raised one eyebrow.

  “Because he doesn’t smell.” There, she’d said it. In fact, he wore nice cologne. “And his clothes are clean.”

  “Ella Anderson!”

  Ella pointed a finger at Mackenzie. “Not another word.” She glanced back at the clock. Eight-thirty. Where was he? Things had changed since he’d walked in carrying that guitar yesterday.

  Guitar. Music. Of course.

  She hurried to pour a flat white in a takeaway cup, popped on a lid, and then untied her apron. Her eyes scanned the room for Andy. There. “Andy.”

  Andy looked up, tipping his chin as he flashed Ella a smile.

  She waved him closer. “Relieve me here for a few minutes, will you?”

  “Sure.”

  With a grin, he stepped up to the espresso machine beside Mackenzie.

  She glanced at him, and then turned her attention to Ella.

  “Where are you going in such a hurry?” Mackenzie asked.

  Ella grabbed the muffin and plate out of the bakery display case then picked up the coffee. “To see a man about a muffin.”

  Outside, the guitarist still held the crowd in the palm of his hand. Would she be able to squeeze through to the front? Only one way to find out.

  “Excuse me.” She eased between the first two people right at the back, balancing the muffin on the plate. Oh why hadn’t she bagged the muffin instead? “Excuse me. Excuse me.” She slowly made her way forward. What if she got to the front and it wasn’t him? Then you’ll treat a poor street busker to a muffin and coffee, that’s what.

  The music drew her forward like the pied piper of Hamlin. Finally she broke through.

  It was him.

  And he was a natural. Like he was born to entertain.

  He glanced up. His eyes locked on hers from beneath the peak of his cap.

  Ella held up the coffee and muffin, and he smiled.

  When he finished the song, she stepped forward as did several other people. Notes and coins lined the black velvet of his guitar case. Not bad for ninety minutes work.

  “Thank you. Thank you.” Phoenix tipped his cap to each person who stopped to reward his entertaining.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t bring any money along, but I did bring this.” Ella stooped and set the coffee and muffin down on the low wall where he sat.

  “That’s worth far more than money. Thank you.”

  “So you’re a musician?”

  He nodded as he popped the lid off his coffee cup then took a sip. “Ooh, this is good.” He dragged out all the ‘o’s.

  “The muffin’s even better. Today’s specialty—Strawberry Cream.”

  “You’re spoiling me.” He took a bite, half devouring the sweet treat.

  He must be hungry. It felt good to offer him kindness.

  She shrugged then laughed. “And you’re spoiling me with this great music. You’re talented.”

  “Thank you.” Phoenix strummed a chord on his guitar. “Thanks again for the coffee and muffin. I need to go to the next song before I lose my audience.”

  He was dismissing her. And rightly so. He did need to get back to work. So did she. How would she feel if she were interrup
ted while the foam on her coffee sat melting? But she needed to ask him about going to the beach later.

  “Of course.” She turned to go then paused. “Will you be coming in later, for your usual morning coffee?” Even though she’d just given him his usual, for free. “I know you like to read while you’re there—I saw your Bible yesterday. I thought, maybe—”

  “I have to vacate this spot shortly. I’ll stop by then. I’d planned to have my usual hour at nine from now on.” He bit half of the remaining muffin and chewed fast. He glanced into his guitar case. “Besides, you’ve just given me another reason to visit.” He popped the last piece into his mouth. “I hope there are more where these came from.”

  “I’ll save you one.”

  Ella walked back to the coffee shop with more of a spring in her step than when she’d left.

  Andy smiled as she walked in.

  Stepping behind the counter, she set aside another Strawberry Cream muffin.

  “Another one, Ella? Seriously?” Mackenzie watched her like a hawk.

  Ella’s shoulders stiffened. “Yes. And I guarantee he’ll insist on paying for this one. I doubt he’ll take charity from me a second time today.”

  She turned to Andy. “Would you mind staying on the machine a little longer? I’ve something else I need to attend to.”

  “No worries.” Andy turned back to the next customer. “Good morning. What’ll it be?”

  Ella grabbed a pen and paper, scribbled on it and handed it to Andy as he worked the customer’s order. “Soon as one of those window tables go open, get a waitress to clean it and place this on the table. Please.” Then she grabbed her handbag from under the counter and hurried to the ladies where she checked her makeup, smoothed on a little more lipstick, and loosened her hair. She combed it out, and then decided not to tie it up again. Instead, she pocketed the elastic band. She’d fasten it later when she returned to work.

  Ella took one last look in the mirror, smoothed her skirt and blouse, and headed back into the coffee shop. It had just gone nine. He’d be there any minute. She glanced outside—the crowd had dissipated. He must be packing up, or on his way. Maybe she would get his regular order ready for him.