12. Scarlett
CHAPTER 12
Scarlett
W ill this day ever end?
After wrangling children, choir members and a parking spot near the grocery store, plus being subjected to various comments about being sprung in the storeroom with Ryan and receiving a scathing text from Stephanie, and weaselling my way out of work in the service station, I end up in the cream-brick building on the main street housing the council chambers—more specifically, Councillor Giles’ office.
When Mum had called with a list of things to get from the shops, she’d also let slip that she’d told Lilac about my out-of-work predicament. Not great—this news will be all over town before sundown. Lilac had said that Gossiping Greta had told her that at the last council meeting, there had been a heated debate about what to do with the donation of half a million dollars that Hanna Charlton—ex-Point Perry resident and now Hollywood movie star who’d returned home recently for the movie premiere of Second Chance Love —had made to the town of Point Perry.
When I’d told Mum about my idea to help the community, she’d cried, bless her. ‘You’re staying in Perry. My girl is coming home,’ she’d wept before listing the prominent locals and surrounding businesspeople she’d call and table the proposal to, seeking the additional funding. Funding will be the biggest issue, and at this moment, there’s not enough. With no bank branch in Point Perry, I called a friend of a friend in Adelaide who is a mortgage broker specialising in commercial loans. He pretty much said, as things stand, that my financials probably weren’t strong enough, but he would look closer and see what he could do in the new year.
My hands are tied. I can’t do anything about it.
The idea started brewing after Justine’s comment in the hall and blossomed. I’d ducked into Perry’s Café to grab a new non-Christmas tee, removed my Santa hat and bell earrings, and presented myself as a want-to-be business owner.
From the newsagent, I’d bought a notepad, pencil and eraser, all while churning the specifics over in my head. Numbers: dollars, population, children, supplies, wages and building costs all solidified, and over a coffee and slice of Marge’s carrot cake, I’d scribbled a rough business plan.
Now, as I sit in Councillor Giles’ office, my gaze instinctively shifts towards a stunning oil painting adorning the wall, capturing the essence of the local, rugged coastline. It reminds me of the pure bliss of being at one with Mother Nature. It ignites a desire within me to make this dream happen so I can enjoy it more.
My mouth is dry, and I wipe my sweaty palms on my shorts. His desk is sparse—only a pot of pens and a picture frame, presumably of his family—like he’s packed it up for the holidays, and he’s wearing casual clothes with an impatient look on his face.
‘Scarlett Reynolds, what’s so urgent it couldn’t wait until the end of January? I’m technically on leave, and they are waiting for me down on the jetty to get those lights hung for tomorrow night.’
‘Love.’ The word escapes my mouth before I can stop it. And where did it come from? It isn’t love for Ryan. I mean, I like him, but … it must be love for my family, Point Perry, the community, the kids. Let’s try again. ‘I’d love a Christmas miracle for the community.’
Councillor Giles remains mute, eyebrows raised. ‘I don’t have time for tomfoolery.’ He stands to leave, slinging his satchel over his shoulder.
My stomach drops, but I don’t move an inch. I won’t roll over that easily or quickly. ‘I have a business proposal for a much-needed and wanted childcare centre to be built in Point Perry, partly funded by Hanna Charlton’s donation, the remaining by private investors.’ I slide my notebook across his polished wooden desk. ‘All the information you need is in here, and apologies for the pencil. Or, if you want, I can type it up. But then you won’t get it until after Christmas and, well, I’m keen to get things moving.’
Councillor Giles freezes in his tracks before retracing his steps back to his seat. Dropping his satchel on the floor and getting comfy in his chair, he pulls the notebook closer and opens the front page. My poor heart is going a million miles an hour as I sit on my hands to stop from picking at my nails.
I can picture it so clearly: a modern building with rooms for babies, toddlers and preschoolers. Lots of big windows and areas to be creative, to rest and to come together. Outside will be grass, interactive play equipment, nature, water and every parent’s favourite—sand. And it will be affordable for everyone with qualified staff.
But most of all, I’ll be back home with a job I love and in a centre I can run the way it should be … how I want it to be. With the children’s best interests at the forefront. Unlike a certain other centre and its director.
Councillor Giles clears his throat, flicks through the last few pages and closes my notepad. ‘It’s not possible, Scarlett. It’s a no from me, and I’d think a no from the majority of the sitting members.’
My heart thuds to the ground. ‘But?—’
‘This all looks unprofessional, and there are no detailed building quotes, only your generalised estimates. Which at first glance seems extremely low for rural build. There are other projects on the table for the donation and, to be honest, a childcare centre isn’t high on the priority list.’
‘But—’
Councillor Giles holds up a hand to stop me. ‘I wouldn’t go making any plans around it happening. In other words: continue as if it weren’t to happen.’
Just as I’m about to argue, he gets up and puts the chair back under the table. If he’s already dismissed my proposal, there’s no way he’s keeping my notepad, so I snatch it back with a mix of frustration and fury. I suppose it’s to be expected two days before Christmas when everyone is already in holiday mode. But I won’t give up. I won’t back down on this new dream without pouring everything into it. There are other avenues, and a large portion of the community will back me. A community that will all be in one place tomorrow night for the Lighting of the Jetty.
‘If you think childcare isn’t a priority, I think you’re very much out of touch with your community, Councillor Giles. It will happen; just you wait and see.’
Outside the council office, I call Mum and update her.
‘Don’t you worry, love. Dad and I’ll put calls into the councillors to rally some support, and we can catch up with them and chat face-to-face at the jetty lightning. We’ll tell them your plan and how it will positively impact the community. Don’t give up.’
With an hour left before the choir is meeting at Seaside Village, and with no time to go back to the farm to use the computer and printer and return to Point Perry, I hurriedly make my way to the school library, hoping it will still be open, even though school finished last week.
As I round the corner, I’m relieved to see the lights are on in the library and the street placard is still standing on the footpath. There’s a bunch of gold star balloons bobbing in the breeze, which brings a smile to my face. Out front, a few dusty cars and farm utes are parked, reflecting how dry it’s been.
The air conditioning is a welcome relief as I push the door open and find the librarian, a lovely Canadian guy who, after I’ve explained what I’m doing, points me to a computer and tells me he’s in full support after seeing the need and listening to families who come in for some of the programs he offers.
I quickly type up the petition, send the file to print and wait impatiently by the printer. Other patrons meander through the aisles, their fingers tracing the spines of books as they read the back covers before deciding whether to return them to the shelf or take them home. The overhead lights flicker before going out, sending the library into a muted darkness as the sun disappears behind a cloud. The whirr of the air conditioner ceases. Terrible timing for a power outage. There’s an eerie silence as if we’re holding our breaths, not just for the power to come back on but for the petition outcome or for the council’s decision.
A commotion at the door breaks the silence as the library patrons gather at the front desk, waiting to see if the power will return. The fact that it’s a stinker of a day and it hasn’t come back on straight away isn’t a good sign.
‘Shit, shit, shit,’ I mutter, staring at the printer, willing the green light to reappear.
‘The power’s going to be out for a while.’ The librarian is swiping his finger across his phone screen. ‘Apparently, some lightning has struck something and taken out a transformer.’
‘Blast! I was hoping to leave the petitions at a few places this afternoon and get some signatures.’ I move closer to the librarian as he shows me the outage details on his phone screen.
‘Leave it with me. Library’s closing soon, but I’ll wait around for a bit and, if the power comes back, I’ll print some and see if I can grab some signatures this afternoon when I’m at the shops. Either way, I’ll get some ready for tomorrow, and I’m happy to wander around the market before the jetty lighting to chat and spread the word.’
‘Oh, that would be awesome. Thank you. My plate is full with the choir stuff and I wanted to make the most of all the families being in town tomorrow.’
‘You’ll get a lot of support. Families have been crying out for some type of care for years.’
‘Yes, that’s the vibe I’m getting, too, and my parents have promised to make some phone calls to the councillors and also to businesses about additional funding or investment.’
‘Wow, that’s great. I’ll keep you posted.’
By the time I arrive at Seaside Village, I’m a sweaty mess. The back of my tee is damp, and wisps of hair are stuck to my forehead. The afternoon sea breeze hasn’t yet arrived, and the sun burns when it comes out from behind the clouds.
Thankfully, the recreation hall is cool, due to the backup generator, and although the lights are off, there’s a lot of natural light coming through the enormous windows that grant vast views of the bay.
On a makeshift stage, the choir members gather, their voices blending as they prepare for their performance. The staff has arranged the residents in a semicircle, sitting them in a mix of recliners and plastic chairs, their walkers, or their beds with the backrests raised. The room is full of tinsel and has handmade snowflakes hanging from the ceiling, with crepe-paper chains strung from one corner of the room to the other. It’s all very festive, and I do an internal cheer and clap my hands like an excited six-year-old.
My heart breaks and melts simultaneously as the residents’ faces transform into broad smiles as Greta enters the room dressed as a cheeky elf. There are claps and ‘woohoos’ as a bubble machine is turned on, and a couple of the choir members do an impromptu song and dance with the handheld bells.
Marion—the village director—joins me inside the door. ‘The residents have been so excited and are really looking forward to this. They don’t get events like this where they can all gather for a singalong. We don’t have enough staff or can’t keep them long enough.’
‘Gosh, that is so sad, Marion.’ It wouldn’t take much for this to be a regular event. I’m sure the choir members would enjoy getting together more than once a year, too. There are so many calendar events that can be celebrated with music—not just Christmas. ‘Marion, would you be open to a chat about some ongoing music events like this?’
Her eyes widen. ‘What are you suggesting? Aren’t you heading back to Adelaide next week?’
‘Well, that’s the thing. I quit my job and have nothing to return to. And in the space of today, I’ve seen a need for both childcare and now something like this for the village residents. I’m in a position where I can offer both. If I can get the childcare up and running, it might mean your staffing issues would lessen.’
‘Yes, it would. That’s one of the main reasons they tell me they can’t continue working or take on additional shifts. And I hear there’s a certain young nurse that might be playing a part in this decision, too?’ A cheeky smirk crosses her face. ‘According to Greta, that is.’ Bless Greta (tongue in cheek) and her gossiping ways. I really wish she wouldn’t do it or get involved in other people’s business. Marion’s smile is broad. ‘I’d love to chat more with you about this. I’ve been thinking about putting on an entertainment-come-events-come-things-to-do person in the new year, even for just a day a week or as needed. Does that sound like something you’d be interested in?’
There’s a lightness in my chest that hasn’t been there in a long time. Since before all the shit with Stephanie and the centre went down.
‘Oh wow, that would be amazing! I’m gathering signatures on a petition to present to the council to use the Hanna Charlton donation funds for a childcare centre to be built or a property purchased and converted, but in the meantime, I’m going to set up family day care to help as many families as I can. And I’d love to help out here, too.’
I pull Marion into a hug and whisper my thanks. A buzz of excitement zips around my chest, and goosebumps break out on my arms. There are so many possibilities. Ideas swoosh around my head. Suddenly, I have two jobs, a council fight on my hands and a relocation to organise.
‘That would be absolutely fantastic.’ Marion steps back. ‘From what I’ve heard, there’s been a lot of debate over the donation, and they’ve not come to any decision. I will one hundred percent back your petition and support you in any way possible. It’s a much-needed service that never seems to be able to get up and running.’
When my phone vibrates in my shorts pocket, I slip it out, swiping to bring up the message on the screen. Those butterflies in my stomach wake at the sight of his name, the memory of his kiss, the feel of his body …
Ryan: Are you free to come over for dinner?
Me: Sure … just at Seaside Village and will come after.
Ryan: Great! I have some exciting news.
Me: Oh? Me too ??
Ryan: Can’t wait xx
The concert at the village is a tremendous success with everyone joining in and singing along. Those who are able to, dance around the room and staff scoot other residents around on their wheels. There’s twirling, line dancing, foot stomping and voracious clapping and hooting. The room is brought to tears when I sing ‘Hallelujah’, accompanied by Tom (who drops in with Carter and Woody for a visit) on the piano. And we finish with everyone singing ‘Santa Claus is Coming to Town’.
Leaning against the wall, sipping a cold lemonade as I watch the residents bust out more dance moves like nobody’s watching, my body is at odds with exhaustion and being on a sugar high. It’s weighing heavily on me that I’m keeping something from Ryan. The truth is something I can no longer hide from him; it’s time to come clean. The idea of revisiting Ryan’s past hurts by sharing mine with him is daunting, but I’ve made up my mind to tell him tonight. My legs feel like they’ve trekked the coastal walk twice over, and there’s a pinching ache between my shoulder blades … but I can’t wait to do this again tomorrow night at the Lighting of the Jetty with water as the backdrop and a crowd of town locals singing along with their torches and battery-operated candles. It’s going to be magical.
After playing a game of chess with resident Gordon while chatting about his life on the land and his excitement over seeing his grandkids tomorrow, I lend a hand to serve prawn cocktails for dinner in the dining room before saying my goodbyes.
Marion walks me out, and we plan to catch up soon. The new year is shaping up to be as bright as the jetty lights.