The Kookaburra Creek Café

by Sandie Docker

‘I’ve been saving up,’ she said.

  Someone turned up the music coming from Brian’s ute.

  ‘Let’s see who else is here.’ Louise grabbed Alice’s arm and dragged her towards the gathering mass. ‘Do you think Dean will show? It probably isn’t his thing.’

  Alice’s cheeks burned and she was grateful for the cover of night. Not once in thirteen years had she kept anything from her best friend. Until now. She hadn’t told her about the kiss, about spending every afternoon the past few weeks with him. Even at school she’d managed to keep her secret, keeping her distance from Dean under the deal that if they were going to spend the afternoons together she had to study at school. She didn’t enjoy the lies, the sneaking about. But it was for Louise’s own good. She’d be upset if Alice had a boyfriend and she didn’t, so, really, she was protecting her feelings.

  What garbage. The simple truth was she just didn’t want to have to share these new feelings with anyone. Not even Louise.

  The bonfire in the middle of the Jenkins’ back paddock was tall and wide, encircled by utes with headlights on and teenagers arriving with cases of beer, carefully dodging the cowpats littered about. Alice and Louise joined the swelling crowd standing around the jumping flames.

  ‘Hey, Pond.’ Two arms grabbed Alice from behind and spun her around. Dean leaned down and kissed her on the lips.

  ‘Happy birthday, Louise,’ he said, not letting go of Alice.

  ‘Thank you.’ Louise frowned and Alice could see the confusion flicker across her eyes. ‘I’d better go mingle.’ She spun round and strode off.

  ‘Is something wrong?’ Dean asked, turning Alice into his embrace completely. ‘You haven’t told her about us, have you? I thought you two shared everything.’

  ‘I wasn’t sure how she’d feel about it.’

  ‘Wouldn’t she be happy for you?’

  That was the thing. Alice wasn’t sure. And she didn’t know how to explain it to Dean. He hadn’t known Louise very long; didn’t know her history of always being the one in the spotlight.

  ‘Or is it me?’ Dean stepped back. ‘Are you embarrassed to be with me?’

  ‘No. God no.’ Alice held his hands. ‘I just wanted to keep you to myself for a while.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’ She hugged him tightly. ‘I should go and check on her.’

  Dean brushed Alice’s fringe from her eyes. ‘Okay, but don’t be long.’

  Alice found Louise away from the bonfire, leaning against the fence in the shadows of night.

  ‘Lou?’ Alice stepped closer and she thought perhaps she saw Louise wipe her cheeks. It was dark though, so she wasn’t sure. ‘I know I should have told you. I’m sorry. It’s just happened and I wasn’t sure . . .’

  ‘All those times you told me you were studying, you were seeing him?’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lie to you.’

  ‘But you did. I can’t believe you’d do that to me. You cow.’

  Louise had never called Alice names before.

  ‘Lou, please . . .’ A horrible thought occurred to her. ‘Do you actually like Dean?’

  ‘What?’ Louise snapped, scratching her left hand. ‘Don’t be stupid. He’s just another skinny idiot like the rest of them. I’m disappointed because you lied. We’re supposed to be friends. Best friends. And best friends don’t keep things from each other.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Lou. Really.’ Alice stepped closer and tried to take Louise’s hands, but she put them in the back pockets of her jeans.

  ‘This hurts.’

  ‘I know. I’m really sorry. I’ll never lie to you again. I promise. Please forgive me. Come back to the party.’

  Louise stepped off the fence. ‘Is it serious?’

  Alice shrugged.

  ‘Do you love him?’

  Alice stared at her friend. She’d never been in love before. She wasn’t sure she knew what it felt like. But surely this had to be close.

  Alice looked down. ‘Maybe. I think so.’

  Louise stepped forward and hugged her tightly. ‘Then I’m happy for you.’ Her voice cracked.

  Alice stepped out of the embrace. ‘Really?’

  ‘Of course.’ Louise nodded, a beauty pageant smile plastered on her face. ‘Let’s get back to my party.’

  ‘Hey, Pond.’ Dean stepped towards her as she came out of the hall a couple of weeks later. ‘How’d you go?’ He leaned in to kiss her but she moved her head to the side so he would catch her cheek. Louise had only been two rows behind her in the exam and wouldn’t be far behind now.

  ‘Really good. I knew all the answers,’ she lied. She didn’t know them all, but she was fairly confident she knew enough. A couple of weeks of serious cramming had done the trick. She turned around to see Louise coming out into the sunshine.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘Pretty good.’ Louise shrugged.

  Alice embraced her. ‘Can you believe we’re done?’

  ‘It’s a miracle we survived.’

  ‘Some of us have survived.’ Brian came from behind and put his long arms around both girls’ shoulders. ‘Some of us still have one to go tomorrow.’ He winked at Dean.

  ‘And then we’ll all be done.’

  The four of them walked towards the gate and down the street. The boys ahead, the girls behind. There was no spring in Lawson’s Ridge. Not a proper one. There was winter when the nights dropped as low as six degrees and a cold day was twenty-one. A week or two in September when temperatures didn’t quite know what to do. And then summer. Hot, dusty forty degrees summer.

  In the heat they walked to the Jenkins property, where Mrs Jenkins had homemade strawberry ice blocks waiting for them.

  ‘So, tomorrow we’re no longer high school students,’ Dean said as they sat on the verandah that wrapped round Louise and Brian’s home.

  Louise sat next to him. ‘And then?’

  ‘And then we party at Pip’s dam.’ Brian said.

  ‘Does the poor guy know we’re coming?’ Dean asked.

  ‘Every Year Twelve goes there after exams.’ Alice sat opposite him.

  ‘It’s tradition,’ she and Louise said in unison.

  ‘And brainiac here will be heading to Sydney.’ Brian punched Alice lightly on the arm. ‘While I stay put and take over this joint.’ He spread his arms wide, the family’s acres stretching as far as they could see.

  ‘You’re still coming with me, right?’ Alice looked to Louise. First Sydney, then the world.

  Louise shifted in her seat. ‘Actually, Mum’s lined me up with a job already. An old school friend of hers or something. Runs a nice clothes boutique in Sydney and said I can start whenever I like.’

  ‘What? When are you going?’

  ‘Christmas.’ Louise looked to the ground.

  Alice frowned. They were supposed to spend the summer together and go to Sydney at the same time. Why hadn’t Louise said anything?

  ‘That’s only two months away!’ said Dean.

  ‘Well, at least we have a plan.’ Louise shook her finger at Dean. ‘Unlike some people.’

  ‘Really, mate?’ Brian threw Dean a can of coke. ‘You still don’t know what you’re going to do?’

  Dean looked up to Alice and she smiled back at him. ‘Actually, someone convinced me I could do more with my life than go be some lackey in my dad’s business, so I’ve applied to do PE Teaching at Sydney Uni. I might even have a shot at getting in.’ He shrugged.

  ‘Bloody great, mate.’ Brian stood up and slapped Dean on the back.

  ‘To all of us.’ Louise raised her ice block in the air and the others raised theirs.

  For the first time in Alice’s life it felt as though the future was within her grasp.

  Kookaburra Creek, 2018

  attie stood in the shadows of the café, unable to go in. It had always been there in her life; her second life, at least. Tall and proud, watching over her and Genevieve, sheltering them, providing for them.

  It
may have had fresh make-up applied over the years, a nip here, a tuck there, but she knew its bones. She knew which floor-boards creaked, which bits of plaster had to be patched up every year because they never set right. She knew the sound the wind made blowing through the tiny gap in the dormer window of the second bedroom upstairs. She knew its very soul.

  It had broken her heart the day she’d moved out. Not that she had much heart left to break. Putting Genevieve into full-time care had done most of that. The thought of being in their home without her had been just too much to bear. So she’d found herself the tiny house in town and left the café to sit there, forlorn and unloved for months. She’d known she had to sell it, but couldn’t bring herself to do it.

  Then Alice had appeared, as if by magic, and Hattie envisioned new life for her beloved old home.

  How many lives did a building have, she wondered. Hattie herself had had two lives. One in light, one in shadow. Before she and Genevieve called this place home, how many incarnations had it seen? Would it have a life after this?

  So much of Hattie’s second life was contained within those walls. She remembered the first time she saw it. If only she’d known then. But she hadn’t. She hadn’t known anything.

  June, 1967

  They stood at the bottom of the steps of the two-storey weatherboard house. The paint was flaking, cobwebs hung from every corner and the windows were covered in a thick film of dirt and grime, preventing anyone from looking in. Probably just as well, thought Harriett.

  ‘This is it?’ Genevieve asked.

  ‘This is it,’ Harriett sighed. It wasn’t quite the summer house in the country Buckley had described, but then not much about Buckley had turned out to be what she’d expected.

  ‘And it’s yours?’

  Harriett nodded. ‘Ours.’

  They walked across the deck and opened the front door.

  ‘It’s big.’ Genevieve looked around, hobbling on the walking stick the hospital had lent them. Three months of rehab had seen her walk again, with help. ‘How long will we be here?’

  ‘Just a few months. Till we’re back on our feet.’

  Genevieve laughed. ‘So to speak.’

  There was nothing inside, just a great big empty room, old white sheets covering the floor. So this is home, thought Harriett, fighting back tears. She had to stay strong. For Genevieve. She owed her that. Whatever it took to protect her baby sister, she’d do it. Their old life was gone now, shattered in an unthinking instant. And it was all her fault. They had to make a life here. A quiet, unnoticed life.

  ‘There’s a kitchen back here,’ Genevieve called from behind a curtained doorway.

  She turned and looked at Harriett with her skin so pale and soft, a smile so kind. The scars carved into her face were no longer red and angry, but they would never heal. Harriett had hoped they would. Genevieve was young and the young healed well. But the doctor had explained the damage was too great. She hadn’t told Genevieve the disfigurement was permanent, though she suspected she already knew. There were no mirrors in the house, and there never would be.

  ‘It just needs a thorough clean. The whole place does,’ said Genevieve, limping into the centre of the room. ‘And then we can turn it into a nice place for holidays.’

  Harriett also hadn’t told Genevieve about her baby, how she’d lost it, how she’d never be able to have children now. She didn’t want to burden her. This was all her own fault and she didn’t want to worry Genevieve unnecessarily.

  This was not the life either one of them had imagined for themselves. Certainly not what Harriett had always dreamed of. There’d be no bright lights or applause or public accolades. But how could she ever go back to that now?

  No. This was home. In time, when Genevieve was ready, Harriett would tell her.

  July, 1968

  Genevieve paced the kitchen floor. ‘Do you think anyone will come?’ She wrung the tea towel in her hands.

  ‘Of course they will.’ Harriett wasn’t convinced, but she couldn’t let Genevieve know she had doubts.

  The menu was pretty basic and neither of them knew what they were doing. But it was worth a try. She’d do anything to make Genevieve happy again and this was what Genevieve had decided would make her happy. A café.

  It had taken a while for her to come to that decision and even longer for Harriett to save enough money working for the accountant, but they’d finally managed to refurbish the house, buy all the equipment they needed and set up Genevieve’s café.

  ‘It’ll just take us some time to build up, is all.’ Until then Harriett would keep working for the accountant in Glensdale.

  ‘You did deliver the flyers, right?’

  They really had no idea what they were doing.

  Genevieve stared ahead, silent, unmoving, her eyes vacant. Harriett moved into position in case she fell down. Not that she ever had. Yet. But the doctor could never guarantee that it wouldn’t happen.

  ‘Gen?’

  No response. Harriett began counting, just as the doctor had instructed. Time the seizures, when they happened, how long they were. Over the past year they’d been getting worse. Not significantly so, but enough for the doctor to want her to take notes. Another constant reminder of the damage Harriett had inflicted upon her sister.

  The old brass bell she’d found by the creek and hung above the door clanged loudly.

  ‘You go,’ Genevieve said, coming back to her. ‘I can’t face them.’

  Harriett walked into the dining room, Genevieve’s homage to white. White chairs, white tablecloths, white tables, frilly white doilies. Harriett would have loved some colour, but she wasn’t going to take anything away from her sister. She owed her so much more than that.

  ‘Morning, Harriett.’ Clive stepped forward. His bike lay up against the side of the deck. It was fitting, Harriett supposed, that their first customer was the first person she’d met in Kookaburra Creek. With him was Betty, the headmistress of Glensdale School. Harriett wasn’t sure if they were a couple, but it didn’t seem likely. Betty didn’t seem the type to be part of any couple.

  ‘Morning,’ Harriett greeted them. ‘Take a seat.’

  ‘It’s very quiet,’ Betty said, looking down her nose at her surroundings.

  ‘Yes. Thank you for stating the obvious. You’re our first patrons.’

  ‘Well, we’d better behave ourselves, then.’ Clive grinned.

  ‘That would be nice.’

  In the kitchen Genevieve prepared Clive’s chicken sandwich and Betty’s green salad. ‘It’s a start.’

  Harriett squeezed her shoulder. The bell rang again. ‘See? Told you people would come.’

  She went back out to greet their next customer and stopped in the middle of the dining room, looking at the tall figure standing before her. Her legs felt weak. He hadn’t changed a bit. There was Buckley standing before her, after all this time. She turned and went back into the kitchen.

  ‘Harry, wait.’ He followed her.

  Genevieve spun round at hearing the familiar voice. ‘Buckley.’ She hobbled to him and threw herself into his arms.

  He kissed the top of her head. ‘Good to see you, squirt.’ His face drained of colour when he stepped back and saw the scars down the side of her face. Harriett was thankful he at least had the sense not to say anything. ‘My, you’re all grown up now.’ He faked a happy expression like the very good actor he was.

  ‘That tends to happen when a year passes.’ Harriett’s voice was low.

  ‘I’m sorry, Harry. I thought you needed time.’

  ‘A few weeks, maybe. A month. It’s been a year, Buckley Hargraves. A year and four months. What gives you the right to come waltzing in here like this?’

  Genevieve went into the dining room, wrapping a scarf round her head before pushing through the shutters.

  ‘What the hell happened to her?’ He walked towards Harriett.

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Of course it does.’

 
; ‘It mattered a year ago. When we had the accident. Where were you then?’ She ran out the back door and he followed.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’

  On the little white jetty Harriett spun around. ‘Because I didn’t think you were interested. Turns out I was right.’

  ‘Were you hurt?’

  She fought back the tears of what might have been, tears for their lost child, tears over her stolen future. ‘No. Not like Gen.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Harry. What I did was stupid. I know that. After you left, I fell into this hole of drugs and booze, but I’m better now. I got help. I’m working again. Doing pretty well. In film. Ironic, I know. There’s this new movie and it’s getting a lot of buzz.’

  She’d read the article, cut it out, about how very successful he’d become. There was even talk of Hollywood. ‘Congratulations. What’s it got to do with me?’

  ‘I want you back, Harry. I need you to forgive me and take me back.’

  Harriett took half a step back. ‘You’re kidding.’

  ‘No. I’m deadly serious.’ He reached his arm around her body and pulled her in tight. She couldn’t stop him kissing her. She didn’t want to stop him.

  For the first few moments of the kiss she’d been dreaming about for so long, it was as though her life was back where it belonged.

  Buckley lifted his head. ‘I want to marry you, have children, start a life together.’

  She clutched her belly. The endless nights she’d cried herself to sleep, the lost hope, all welled up inside her. ‘No.’ She pushed him away.

  ‘We’re meant to be, Harry. You know that.’

  ‘And where does Delilah fit into this lovely picture you’ve created?’

  ‘I said I’m sorry. You have to forgive me.’

  She heard the bell clang again. Another customer for Genevieve. ‘I can’t leave her.’

  ‘She can come too.’

  ‘You don’t understand. So much has changed for us. I can’t . . . she has these . . .’ Harriett closed her eyes. ‘She’s happy here. She’s finally got a smile on her face for the first time since the accident and I can’t take that away from her.’