The Kookaburra Creek Café

by Sandie Docker

  ‘. . . and you wouldn’t believe what he said.’ Joey reached the climax of his story.

  ‘And you call yourself Italian!’ shouted everyone from both tables. Fiona reached across and touched Joey’s shoulder. Alice felt her cheeks redden and had to avert her eyes. Fiona Harris had been in and out of their lives, of Joey’s life, as long as Alice could remember. Why seeing her there next to him today made her feel uneasy, Alice wasn’t sure. Fiona touched Joey’s shoulder again and Alice felt her heart beat a little faster.

  She forced herself to focus on Hattie and Betty and their debate about the relative value of the arts in this modern world.

  ‘But without art and music, the very soul of a culture is doomed,’ Hattie countered.

  ‘Perhaps. But without science, life itself is doomed and therefore there endeth the soul. So, you see, arts can only take a back seat to other learning.’ Betty seemed to be enjoying herself.

  ‘So, Becca, darling.’ Mrs Harris leaned across the table, pushing her red curls behind her ear. ‘How long do you think you’ll be staying with our Alice?’

  Becca shot Alice a quick look.

  ‘She’s proving herself very helpful with the café,’ Alice said. ‘So, I hope she stays on for a good while.’

  ‘And where are you from, child?’ Clive’s voice boomed across the table, his hearing aids clearly on the wrong setting.

  Becca stood up and started clearing the table. ‘Sydney,’ she mumbled, pushing her fringe over her eyes.

  ‘Eh?’ Clive shouted and Freddy whispered in his ear before getting up.

  ‘I’ll give you a hand,’ Freddy said to Becca and winked at Alice.

  She mouthed her thanks to him, relieved he’d picked up on Becca’s discomfort.

  ‘So, what else do you know about her?’ Mrs Harris asked, watching her youngest boy disappear into the café with the strange girl.

  ‘Now, Mrs Harris.’ The reverend placed a gentle hand on his wife’s arm, but she shrugged it off.

  ‘I mean really, Hattie,’ she continued.

  ‘Oh, let the girl be,’ Hattie said. ‘I’m getting old and Alice needs a little help. Becca’s doing a fine job.’

  ‘Yes, well, taking in strays may be your thing, Harriett, but it’s not for everyone.’ Mrs Harris shot Hattie a look, but the old woman didn’t flinch.

  ‘And what is it the Bible preaches about being tolerant of those in need?’ Betty came to Hattie’s defence.

  ‘Rightly so,’ Reverend Harris muttered.

  Hattie smiled. ‘Betty, would you pass the tea, please?’ she asked, flicking her green scarf over her shoulder and making sure it swiped Mrs Harris’s cheek on the way past.

  Yes, this was now Alice’s Sunday norm and she’d grown to love it. She wasn’t, however, loving the fact that Fiona Harris was leaning closer and closer to Joey the more the day wore on.

  *

  Clive, always one of the last to leave spring brunch, pulled one leg up and over his rusty bicycle and waved to Alice before peddling away. When Alice walked back into the café kitchen she found Becca and Freddy finishing the last of the washing up in silence.

  ‘Thank you, Freddy sweetheart.’ She hugged him.

  ‘No worries, Alice.’ He bent down to kiss her on the forehead. ‘Gardens next week?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ She nodded. ‘Be a gem and drop the takings off at the station, will you?’

  Freddy saluted and turned to Becca. ‘See ya round.’

  Becca waved dismissively and Alice shrugged in apology to Freddy. He shrugged back before picking the bucket up off the counter and heading out the front door.

  Alice put away the last of the dishes and handed Becca a bottle of water.

  ‘Are you ready?’ she asked.

  ‘For what?’ Becca took a step back. ‘We’re finished, aren’t we?’

  ‘A walk.’

  ‘A walk? Are you kidding me?’

  ‘Nope. My Sunday ritual. I always go for a walk after brunch.’

  ‘Your ritual, maybe.’ Becca folded her arms in front of her chest. ‘Not mine.’

  ‘It’ll do you good.’ Alice moved behind Becca and started pushing her towards the door.

  ‘Oh, come on,’ Becca groaned.

  Alice, trailed by a reluctant Becca, followed the creek into town, a gentle stroll past pastures and green fields dotted with dairy cows. A brown and white Ayrshire lowed deeply as they passed and Alice waved.

  ‘Hello, Patches,’ she called out.

  Becca paused a moment, but said nothing.

  When they reached the white wooden bridge that crossed the creek at Dandelion Dell, Alice picked up a dandelion from a cluster by the water’s edge. Holding it to her chest, she closed her eyes and threw it in the gently running stream. If Becca noticed, she chose not to say anything.

  Across the bridge sat the town centre – two rows of old, wooden shopfronts lining High Street, the main strip that ran through the town. Moretti’s Bread House, Curlz Hair Salon, the National Bank and the newsagent were all closed, given it was Sunday. Only the grocer was open, though the old pub, the Cow and Boot, would open in another hour or so, once Sam got back from his fishing. Each shop had a planter box of colourful flowers on its windowsill, dutifully cared for by Betty and Hattie and the town gardening club, and the street was lined with lemon-scented gums, tall and thin. In the middle of the grassed median strip that cut the road in half proudly stood the arch that proclaimed Kookaburra Creek as a Tidy Town winner five years running.

  Behind the main drag were a mix of red-brick and weatherboard houses and the one school, right on the edge of town, where kindergarten to Year Twelve students were educated by seven dedicated teachers. They hadn’t had their own school long in Kookaburra Creek, and any time they beat Glensdale at sport or spelling bees the whole town celebrated. A small but well-stocked library sat next to the town hall, and the public pool on the other side of town would reopen for the season in another month or so.

  At the end of High Street was the cenotaph, the names of twenty Kookaburra Creek men lost in various wars engraved on the brass plaque.

  ‘Just up here is the duck pond,’ Alice said, breaking the silence. She pointed to the large park in the middle of town. ‘I thought we could . . .’ She held up the bag of stale bread she’d been carrying with her and handed it to Becca, who shrugged.

  A green Holden ute driving through town slowed as it approached.

  Becca froze. All the colour drained from her face.

  ‘Becca?’ Alice whispered.

  Becca began to tremble and the car came to a stop a few metres away. Dropping the bag of bread, Becca turned on her heel and ran.

  ‘Becca!’ Alice shouted, stepping in the bread as she tried to follow, knowing it was unlikely she’d catch her.

  ‘Becca! Wait!’

  ‘I’ve looked everywhere, Joey. Where can she be?’ Alice paced the café dining room. Becca had disappeared over an hour ago. Alice had called everyone she knew, which was virtually the whole town, and no one had seen her. Hattie had told her to go home and wait and, when she’d refused, Joey was tasked with dragging her back to the café.

  ‘I know what it means to you having her here.’ He held Alice’s shoulders gently. ‘You said she saw Carson’s car and just took off?’

  ‘She looked terrified.’

  ‘And he’s been out looking?’

  She nodded. ‘Oh, Joey. Where could she have gone?’

  Joey squeezed her tightly. ‘Well, if seeing a cop in a car is what scared her off, sending one to find her isn’t going to work. I’ll go.’ He released Alice from his embrace and cradled her cheeks in his large, rough hands. ‘I’ll bring her back safe.’ His warm brown eyes met hers. ‘I promise.’ His voice cracked slightly. ‘I won’t let you down.’

  Alice took his hands in hers and squeezed them tightly. ‘Hurry. Please.’

  Joey took off, jumping from the deck.

  ‘Come on, boy,’ he called to Shadow, who’d been
waiting dutifully outside.

  Alice walked around the dining room pushing in chairs that were already snug against the table, moving salt and pepper shakers half a centimetre from where they sat, only to move them back again. She almost buckled under the weight of the memories of the past that had resurfaced. This was different, she repeated again and again under her breath.

  Then why did it feel the same?

  She went upstairs to the tiny office that sat off the living room and opened the cupboard. Her eyes drifted past the shelf of paperwork and dog-eared recipe books that she didn’t use much these days – most of what she cooked she either knew by heart or made up as she went along – until her gaze stopped on the plastic tub pushed into the back corner.

  Slowly she removed the lid and took out the small pink-striped box. Tammy’s old jumper sat inside and she lifted it and pressed her face into its soft folds. If she breathed deeply enough, she could still catch the faint hint of Tammy’s scent: vanilla and lavender. Under the jumper was Tammy’s colouring book, a pressed dandelion glued to the front cover. Alice still couldn’t bring herself to look inside, even now. She lay the book on the floor beside her, avoided looking at the photos that were tucked inside a yellow envelope, and put them to one side.

  At the bottom of the tub was a sparkly rainbow headband. Alice picked it up and held it to her chest, memories of joy and laughter flooding her mind. Fear had stopped her opening the tub for years, fear that she would drown in emotion. But holding the headband, thinking of Tammy’s sweet face, hearing her laughter again, she didn’t want to let the memories go.

  She opened the yellow envelope. Her daughter’s eyes smiled back at her and Alice let the tears flow. It was eight years since she’d looked at her precious girl’s face. Behind the sadness though, a hint of joy rippled as she looked into Tammy’s eyes.

  She touched each photo and a memory long pushed aside resurfaced with each new picture. Slipping the photos back inside, she held the envelope to her chest. She didn’t return it to the tub, but left it on her bed before heading back downstairs.

  She wandered into the kitchen and looked up to Sylvia. Chocolate fudge. She always said chocolate fudge when Alice was worried or upset. Pulling the mixing bowls from their shelf, she tied her orange apron around her waist.

  Creaming butter, beating eggs, sifting flour. A dozen chocolate fudge. Two dozen chocolate fudge. Three dozen.

  The sun set.

  By the oven’s dim light Alice mixed more batter. Five dozen chocolate fudge cupcakes.

  When the kitchen bench was full, she cleared the serving counter out front. Six dozen cupcakes. Trays cooled on the tables in the dining room.

  She ran out of eggs.

  Chocolate frosting oozed from the piping bag. Squeeze, swirl, dollop. Squeeze, swirl, dollop.

  The old brass bell on the café door jingled and Alice’s head jerked up.

  Joey stood behind Becca and gently guided her inside. It was only then, trying to get a proper look at her, that Alice realised there were no lights on in the place. She bumped into chairs as she hurried to get to the girl.

  Becca didn’t look up. Hands in her pockets, her left foot traced the tiny cracks in the floorboards. Alice placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders and checked her over. No cuts or bruises – there was dirt on her clothes but no obvious sign of harm. She wrapped Becca in a tight embrace and looked at Joey.

  ‘Thank you,’ she mouthed. He nodded and slipped silently back out the door.

  Becca sat on the floor in the middle of the rug holding the hot Milo Alice had made her, not taking a sip. Alice sat in her usual spot on the sofa, hands in her lap, waiting for Becca to break the silence that had shadowed them since her return.

  Alice counted how long each in and out of her own breath took. One, two, three, four. One, two, three.

  ‘I might go to bed,’ Becca said without looking up.

  Alice opened her mouth to speak, but stopped herself. Whatever had spooked Becca had done a thorough job and Alice knew she wouldn’t get anything out of her tonight. A teenage girl with secrets was a creature she knew well.

  When she heard Becca’s door close, Alice headed outside onto the deck and stood watching the moonlight bounce off the ripples in the gently flowing creek.

  ‘Alice?’

  Joey’s voice startled her and she turned round to see him standing on the edge of the deck. Shadow lay beside him, his head on his front paws.

  ‘Thought I’d pop by and see how she is.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Alice sighed. ‘She’s in bed. Calm. At least.’

  Joey nodded. ‘And you?’

  Alice’s shoulders began to shake and Joey took three steps and enveloped her in a tight embrace.

  ‘I know,’ he said, as she sobbed into his shoulder. ‘I know.’

  ‘I just kept thinking, if I lost her . . .’

  Joey nodded and held Alice’s shoulders with outstretched arms.

  ‘I know it’s silly.’ Alice sniffled. ‘And I know it can never make up for what happened but, I don’t know, maybe she’s meant to be here. Maybe there’s a reason.’

  Joey’s voice was doubtful. ‘Maybe. I just don’t want you getting hurt. Becca’s got some serious stuff going on. You might not be able to save her.’

  ‘But I can try.’

  ‘Oh, Alice. Be careful. I couldn’t bear to see you in that much pain ever again.’

  ‘Don’t you get it, Joey? Underneath it all, I’m always in that much pain. It never goes away.’

  ‘I know. I lost her too, remember?’ A single tear fell down his cheek.

  They looked into each other’s eyes, stuck in that moment, unable to move.

  A tawny frogmouth landed on the deck railing, thrashing a tiny lizard in its beak.

  Alice dropped her gaze. ‘Thank you, Joey, for bringing her back. You always come through for me.’

  Joey closed his eyes. A moment. He looked at Alice with a sadness that broke her heart all over again. ‘Not always.’

  He kissed Alice on the forehead before walking away into the night.

  I punched him.

  And I kicked him and I hit him. But he wouldn’t let go of me. I could see his face, grinning that awful grin at me. I couldn’t get free. I spat and I scratched and I screamed.

  He didn’t shout back, didn’t growl. He always growls.

  His grip wasn’t tight, sending searing pain through my arms, shoulders. He was gentle. He’s never gentle.

  I looked at his face and it slowly came into focus. Crooked nose. Dark eyes, kind. Stubble covering his chin.

  Joey. Not him.

  I screamed again. Then sobbed.

  ‘No one will hurt you here,’ he said to me, as if he knew why I’d run. ‘Alice and I will protect you.’

  I’ve heard those words before. ‘No one will hurt you.’ They mean nothing. People lie.

  It always starts with the lie and then they hurt you. Bad.

  ‘Let me take you back to Alice,’ he said, releasing his hold just a little. Just enough to let me know he wasn’t going to hurt me. Not enough to let me run.

  He used to do that too. And that was when he’d strike. But Joey didn’t strike.

  He held me, I sobbed and he didn’t strike. He didn’t say anything else. Just held me and waited. This was his chance, and he didn’t take it.

  I don’t know how long I cried and punched him in the shoulder. It felt like forever. But he didn’t try to stop me. He just waited.

  Where I was when he found me, I have no idea. Or how he found me, for that matter. But it took ages for us to walk back to the café. There was so much bush. We walked in silence.

  I don’t know what to say to Alice now. It’s pretty obvious she was worried about me. I reckon she’d even been crying. I don’t remember the last time anyone worried enough about me to cry. But what can I tell her? If I tell her the truth, I’m sure she won’t want me around anymore. She’s been good to me, sure. But that’s because she
doesn’t know. If she did, she wouldn’t want me here. Or the danger that follows me.

  Who would?

  But I can’t tell her. I mean it isn’t really the sort of thing you casually drop into conversation over Milo and a biscuit. I may not be an adult, but I know for sure there are certain things they just don’t like to talk about. No one ever wants to talk about it.

  Alice won’t want to hear about it either.

  I can hear her pacing in the living room right now. But she won’t come in. I think she’s scared to. Scared of what she might find out.

  Lawson’s Ridge, 2003

  or the first time in Alice’s life, every waking moment wasn’t dedicated to thinking about school, or her escape from Lawson’s Ridge, or how to use school to escape Lawson’s Ridge. For the first time since her mother’s death, every dream wasn’t filled with fractured images and silent screams.

  She knew it couldn’t be good for her to be distracted like this, losing focus for exams. But if Dean was the reason her mum’s frozen smile and her dad’s sad eyes no longer visited her dreams, then she wasn’t about to complain.

  Every afternoon they’d spend hours together – walking the dusty streets of Lawson’s Ridge, climbing their ironbark, driving the endless gravel roads that led nowhere; talking about school, getting out of Lawson’s Ridge, Dean’s family, never hers, or saying nothing – just holding hands as they walked, or leaning against each other as they perched on their branch, or Alice resting her head on Dean’s shoulder as they drove. Each day passed better than the last and Alice allowed herself just a spark of hope.

  ‘I love it.’ Louise hugged Alice. ‘How on earth did you afford something so beautiful?’

  Alice shrugged. The silver heart-shaped locket had three tiny flowers embossed on one side and ‘Happy 18th’ engraved on the other. Inside, on red velvet backing, Alice had placed a picture of the two of them taken when they were eleven. Big toothy smiles next to Pip’s dam, before Alice’s world changed.