The Kookaburra Creek Café Read online

  The clapping and cheering continued and Joey made a trumpet gesture with his hands.

  Alice shrugged and nodded. The cast took their positions.

  Hattie began with the opening lines to ‘Blow, Gabriel Blow’, and soon the rest of the company followed, their proud voices ringing out through the hall.

  The chorus received a mighty cheer, though not as big a reception as Clive when he took his individual bow – slowly down, slowly up, holding his back in a ploy, Alice suspected, to milk his applause. Mrs Harris soaked up the adoration, blowing kisses into the audience when she curtsied. Six times.

  Joey, Fiona and Alice took their bow together, stepping forward with Joey between the two women, their hands clasped in the air.

  But the biggest applause of all was for Miss Harriett Brookes. Audience members threw flowers on to the stage as Hattie bowed and, if Alice wasn’t mistaken, there might have been a tear or two slide down the star’s cheek.

  The entire cast and crew were squashed together on the deck of the Kookaburra Creek Café for the afterparty, patting each other on the backs, gulping down wine and beer and champagne. An exhausted Hattie had been given a seat next to the door and was surrounded by Betty and her bowls gang. Freddy and Becca were on drinks duty, ensuring no one’s glass was empty for long. Funny how people who needed topping up were always near each other and Freddy and Becca had to attend them at the same time. Mr Sinclair may have had a smile on his face, though he seemed a little put off by the close press of the crowd.

  And everyone, it seemed, wanted to make a speech. Thanking Hattie, thanking Alice, asking Joey if he was going to abandon them for Broadway, thanking whoever happened to be standing next to them, praising the crew, praising the cast, thanking their grandmother who first made them listen to Cole Porter, thanking Cole Porter . . .

  Eventually Hattie rose and all eyes turned to her, all voices stilled.

  ‘I’m terribly proud of each and every one of you,’ she said with considerable effort, ignoring the tear at the corner of her eye. ‘I’ll be expecting even more from you next year.’

  Everyone cheered.

  ‘Mr Sinclair?’ She invited his critique.

  ‘Best local production I’ve ever seen,’ he muttered.

  Everyone cheered.

  ‘And,’ Hattie continued. ‘I’m pleased to say that, while we don’t have the final tally yet, of course, it looks like the proceeds of the night, ticket sales, food takings, the wonderful auction, might be enough to save the café.’

  A cork flew out into the night, a wet plonk suggesting it had landed in the creek in the distant dark.

  Everyone cheered as Joey started pouring the champagne into upheld glasses.

  They’d done it. They’d actually pulled it off.

  From across the deck Alice caught Joey’s gaze. All she wanted right there in that moment was to run into his arms, celebrate there. But Fiona stood right beside him, cheering with the rest of the crowd.

  Alice forced herself to hide behind a smile as friends and strangers alike patted her on the back.

  Kookaburra Creek, 2009

  t hadn’t been easy to convince the newsagent in Glensdale to get The Courier sent over from Cutter’s Pass when she’d first arrived, but three batches of free cupcakes and the promise of more had sealed the deal.

  Alice knew it was silly, after all this time, to still want news from Lawson’s Ridge. She’d stopped thinking of it as home long ago, but part of her, a part she didn’t like to admit existed, had to know if her dad ever went back for her. She scoured every article, every classified, for any mention of Bruce Pond, any clue that he’d returned to his daughter. But his name was never there.

  Today’s paper was no different. Nothing in the articles on drought in the first few pages, nothing in the sport pages – though it seemed the footy team were doing well this year – no advertisements for Pond’s Plumbing and Pipes.

  She read the birth announcements. No names she knew. She scanned the obituaries. Bertie had passed away. A wave of sadness washed over her as she remembered his Sunday visits to the shop in his boxer shorts and dressing gown. What a lonely death that would have been.

  And then she spat hot tea across the table.

  A name. Not the name she’d searched nearly six years for, but one that sent a shiver down her spine nevertheless.

  Mr and Mrs Jenkins were apparently thrilled that this coming Saturday their only daughter Louise was to marry Dean McRae.

  Alice paced the kitchen. She couldn’t quite understand it, but there it was in black and white.

  How foolish she’d been, hoping all this time he would change his mind and decide to be part of Tammy’s life.

  So this was his final choice. His declaration to the world. But it made no sense to her.

  Alice pulled out her bowls and measuring cups and started on a vanilla batter. She cracked the first egg and pieces of shell fell into the bowl. Dammit. She threw out the batter.

  Closure. That’s what she needed. She grabbed another bowl and started measuring again. Perhaps if she saw it for herself, then she could believe it.

  She had everything here in Kookaburra Creek to move on with: Tammy, the café, friends. Even an orphaned dog that had somehow become hers. Yet, she knew she was holding back. Maybe a chance to say goodbye was just what she needed.

  She looked up at Sylvia. ‘I’ll keep my distance. I won’t speak to him. I’ll just watch.’

  Sylvia stared back at her.

  ‘Really. It’s only so I can close that book once and for all.’

  *

  The familiar sight of Pip’s sprawling farm came into view as Alice passed the flood sign just out of Lawson’s Ridge that was only ever needed once.

  Alice slowed the car as she pulled into town. She turned into her old street. Number two’s picket fence was still there, its yellow paint looking fresh. Mr Jones always was so houseproud. Number four looked pretty much the same, apart from a new letterbox. The lamppost on the corner, Dean’s lamppost, was gone, however. By the looks of the metal stump that stuck out of the pavement, it was mostly likely knocked over and never replaced. She pulled up next to number ten and stopped. There was no lawn, only brown weeds. Instead of cheap white curtains, the windows were covered in taped-up newspaper. A ‘for lease’ sign, splattered with dirt, hung from one corner off a wooden post in the centre of the front yard where Gus used to stand so proudly.

  Getting out of the car, Alice tiptoed up to the living room window. The newspaper was yellowed and faded, but she could still make out the stories printed on it. Drought, tractor sales, footy wins and losses. All dated four weeks after she’d fled. Had the place really remained empty all this time?

  She returned to the car and continued driving, past the corner store, towards the cemetery.

  Kneeling beside her mother’s grave, she placed daisies against the headstone.

  ‘Hi, Mum. Sorry it’s been so long.’ Tears fell down her cheeks into the dirt below. She traced Sonia’s name with her fingers. What else could she say? She’d abandoned her mum, left her there alone in the dust for all these years. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she sobbed. It was her only regret leaving Lawson’s Ridge.

  ‘I have a baby girl.’ She sniffled. ‘Well, she’s not a baby anymore. Tammy Sonia Pond. She’s nearly five. You’d love her . . .’

  After tidying the gravesite, pulling out brown weeds, sweeping away years of neglect and dirt, Alice stood and slowly walked away.

  She unwrapped the sandwich she’d packed and took in the view. Climbing her old ironbark hadn’t been as easy as she’d remembered, but she’d made it up there. The path below was overgrown and the whole area looked less green than it had when she was younger. And it was smaller. It was definitely smaller.

  Leaning back against the trunk, memories flooded her mind and she tried, pointlessly, to push them aside. All the kisses they’d shared. That night. How safe she felt with him, how he’d made her laugh. Pointless, wasted memories
. He was marrying Louise. She had to accept that, for her own sake and for Tammy’s. She climbed down from the tree and started to walk, a new plan forming in her mind as she headed into town. The boarded-up windows of abandoned shops that lined the main street had multiplied since Alice left.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  Alice turned round to see a familiar figure behind her. ‘Louise? Hello.’ She was face to face with the friend she’d once shared her entire life with.

  Louise’s long blonde hair was piled on top of her head in large soft rollers and Alice realised they were standing outside the hairdresser.

  Louise took a step forward. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘I . . . I heard. I wanted to wish you both well.’

  ‘Seriously? You expect me to believe that? Do you know how much you hurt him when you left? You shattered him. You can’t come back now and change that.’

  ‘That’s not . . .’

  ‘I won’t let you hurt him again. The best thing you can do for him is leave. Right now.’

  ‘I’m not here to hurt anyone.’

  ‘No. I won’t let you. He’s marrying me. And we’re going to have a good life together.’ She shook her head. ‘It took him so long to get over you, Alice. Properly over you. I won’t let you ruin the peace he’s finally found.’

  Alice could see Louise’s hands shaking – the old telltale sign that always gave away how uncertain she was behind her confident bravado.

  ‘I’m not here to cause trouble.’

  ‘Then don’t.’ Louise’s eyes were wide now, pleading. ‘Please, just go. If you ever cared for him at all, let him have his peace.’ She turned and went back into the hairdresser.

  Alice didn’t know what to think, what to feel. Why was she there? Really? What did she hope to achieve? She doubled over, but quickly pulled herself upright and walked away.

  The little wooden church shone brightly in the late afternoon sun, its whitewashed walls as clean as they had been when Alice was growing up.

  From behind a large gum she could see the guests arriving without any chance of being seen. She’d hidden there often as a child when she didn’t want to go to Sunday School. The initials she’d carved when she was twelve, a dark scar on the pale bark, A.P., inside a crooked love heart. She’d always planned on coming back to add the letters of her true love, the one she’d marry one day in the church across the field, when she found him.

  With her finger she traced D.M. beneath her initials and then erased the ghost letters with a sweep of her palm.

  Sally and Sue arrived dressed in the brightest purple dresses Alice had ever seen, their lime green fascinators holding up their grey hair. They looked towards the old gum, but Alice was sure they didn’t see her. They smiled and entered the church.

  Mr Jones wore the same brown suit he’d trotted out for Sonia’s funeral and every wedding and funeral ever since. Mrs Jones teetered on heels that were clearly new and an uncomfortable contrast to the wellies she normally wore. Mr Williams helped Donna Dobson out of his car and they walked arm in arm into the church. Alice wondered when they’d gone public with what the public knew all along. Pip hobbled in with a cane, a new addition, and Alice wondered how he was managing his great property so encumbered as he clearly was now. How had he aged so much in the few years Alice had been gone?

  ‘Pond? Is that you?’

  Alice spun around, a familiar shiver shooting up her neck. Dean stood before her in a neat black suit, an electric blue tie loosened around his neck. His hair was shorter than she remembered and flecked perhaps with grey. So young. His chest was thicker, his belly too. In his left hand he held a walking stick. His blue eyes stared at her with the same bright intensity that haunted her dreams.

  ‘No chair?’ Her voice cracked and tears filled her eyes at the sight of him.

  ‘Been back on my feet for a long while now.’

  Alice’s thoughts tumbled over themselves. Here he was in front of her. Healthy. Handsome. She wanted so desperately to embrace him.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Dean stared at her. ‘Not that I’m complaining.’ He smiled, his left dimple deepening. ‘I’m just surprised.’

  Alice sighed and shook her head.

  ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be here.’

  ‘No. It’s okay. It’s good to see you.’

  He stepped a little closer, reached out and touched Alice’s cheek. She turned her head so he couldn’t see her tears.

  With his free hand he turned her face back towards him and wiped her tears away. Alice took his hand, held it tightly and inhaled.

  ‘You’re getting married.’ She forced a smile.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Louise, huh?’

  He shifted his weight. ‘She’s been amazing . . .’

  ‘You don’t need to explain. Congratulations.’

  ‘Pond.’ Dean leaned in so close Alice could feel his breath on her face. ‘There’s so much . . .’

  ‘None of it matters now.’

  ‘Pond.’

  A white limousine pulled up to the church gate. Out stepped two girls Alice didn’t recognise, dressed in the electric blue halter-neck dresses she and Louise had always planned on having for their weddings. They helped the bride out of the car. Louise’s simple, elegant gown looked perfect. She glanced around, but Alice and Dean were well hidden.

  Alice closed her eyes and pictured Dean’s two lives. The one with her and Tammy, the time lost, a past missed, always playing catch up. The one with Louise, the hope she represented, the future. His future.

  The past didn’t matter now.

  ‘Go, now. Marry Louise, Dean. It’s meant to be.’

  ‘I never stopped loving you,’ he said, so matter-of-fact it hurt her more than if he’d been filled with emotion.

  Alice cast her eyes down. ‘But now you love Louise.’

  ‘We have a good life together.’

  All of a sudden Alice felt incredibly foolish. Foolish for being there and thinking it would change things, for holding out hope all this time, for believing he ever loved her enough. She could actually feel it, the shattering of her heart into tiny pieces as a past of hopeless choices slowly crushed her. And she knew she had to get out of there as fast as she could.

  ‘Go. They’re waiting,’ she whispered.

  She raised her head and looked into his eyes, mustering more conviction than she thought possible, as those tiny pieces of her heart imploded one by one.

  ‘Goodbye, Alice.’

  He squeezed her shoulder. With slow, deliberate strides he walked back to the church. At the side door he stopped, shoulders slumped, and ever so slightly he turned.

  Alice waited.

  Dean pulled himself up straight and opened the heavy wooden door.

  Alice gulped in great breaths of air and turned her back on the church. She lifted her chin, squared her shoulders and walked across the field.

  ‘Goodbye,’ she said out loud, a single tear escaping down her cheek.

  Kookaburra Creek, 2010

  ot too fast, sweetie.’ Alice put her hand on Tammy’s as she stirred the batter with a wooden spoon. ‘That’s better. Just a little slower.’

  With her spare hand Tammy took a handful of grated carrot and threw it into the bowl, accidently dropping some onto the floor under the bench where Shadow just happened to be lying in wait.

  That dog really loved cupcake time, and no wonder. Alice always had to prepare double the special ingredient – blueberries, coconut, carrot – because somehow Tammy managed to spill a little, every time. The poor kid had learned the hard way though that, despite Shadow’s pleading eyes, she couldn’t drop chocolate on the floor. A few days at the vet last month had brought that message home. Neither Tammy nor Shadow coped well being separated for the first time since becoming best friends. Tammy was now very careful when it came to chocolate and her dog.

  Alice slid the trays of carrot and ginger cupcakes into the oven and Tammy and Shadow ran outsi
de to play by the creek.

  It was their favourite game. Tammy would throw a stick into the water, Shadow would launch himself in to fetch it, Tammy would call him back out and Shadow would bound back up the bank, shaking water all over a protesting, giggling Tammy. Then she’d throw the stick back into the creek again.

  Alice smiled. It had been six months since her visit to Lawson’s Ridge and the ‘closure’ she’d searched for turned out not to be what she’d expected. She thought perhaps there would be an overwhelming sense of joy; an epiphany, like the weight of the universe had been lifted off her shoulders. She thought the world would take on a colour the vibrancy of which she’d never seen.

  But it wasn’t like that at all.

  It was more a subtle acceptance that came over her. A letting go of what could never be and being content with what was. She had Tammy, her café, her friends. It was enough. More than enough. And somewhere in there lay happiness.

  As she arranged the painted chairs around the café, Joey entered as he did every morning. Something about him was different, though. Was it his hair? His shirt? She gave him his espresso and cupcake and he lingered.

  ‘I was wondering, Alice,’ he turned his coffee cup round and round, ‘if you’d be interested in maybe going on, well, on a date with me?’

  Alice felt her cheeks redden and wasn’t quite sure where to look. There really was no reason to say no. Not a rational one. Not anymore. But she didn’t know if she was ready; if she’d ever be ready.

  ‘No pressure.’ He smiled. ‘Just two friends hanging out.’

  Just two friends hanging out. ‘I . . . um . . . yes. I’d like that.’ And with those words Alice realised just how much she would.

  ‘Friday at seven? I’ll come get you.’

  ‘What about Tammy?’

  ‘Hattie’s already said she’d look after her.’

  ‘Oh, has she just?’ Alice raised an eyebrow. ‘Confident I’d say yes, huh?’