Chapter Five
CHAPTER
FIVE
When Beth had turned up at the Boomerang Cafe for her trial shift the following week, Marge introduced her to her husband, Tom, who did all the cooking.
Beth’s first impressions had been that Tom was as friendly as his wife, though perhaps not as talkative.
He’d given calm, clear instructions as he plated up food and pointed out all the work stations she needed to know about, and afterwards, Marge had walked her through all the front-of-house duties.
For the next few hours, Beth had worked hard, ensuring customers were fed and tables were cleared. She thought the shift had gone well, despite the chaos during the lunch hour. When it was over, Marge had sat her down and Tom had come out of the kitchen.
‘We’d be stupid not to hire you,’ Marge had said.
Smiling widely, Tom had wiped his hands on a dish towel and nodded at his wife. ‘What she said.’
Thrilled to have ticked job hunting off her to-do list, Beth had extended her stay at the B those that were long dead carpeted the ground, while more had sprouted from their carcasses over the winter and were now thick-stemmed and mature.
A surge of inexplicable anger rose up in her. Weeds, in general, were persistent, suffocating, dreadful things, but while the ugliness thrived, the beauty underneath was hidden from the world. Fuelled by a desperate need to see balance restored, she tore at the weeds.
She might not know a thing about gardening, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to rest until she’d unearthed every last rose bush. If they hadn’t perished with neglect, she’d do everything she could to nurse them back to health and restore their beauty.
A car turned into the street and the silver-haired lady who lived across the road pulled into her driveway. Beth had glimpsed the woman pottering around her garden once or twice but had so far avoided having to engage in any small talk.
Intending for that trend to continue, Beth moved along the garden bed, focusing on her task, determined to decimate the ugliness that’d taken over it.
It was surprisingly satisfying. She hadn’t given much thought to what she’d do in the yards here—she’d been fixated on the house—but now that she’d taken this step, ideas started flowing.
Restore the rose bushes, line the garden path with daisies, the driveway with lavender—
A clunking thud and a loud ‘Oh!’ startled her and she spun around.
Her elderly neighbour stood at the open boot of her car holding a shopping bag, though it was slack and dangling from her fingers.
On the ground lay a pile of groceries. A can was rolling down the driveway as Beth rushed across the street, and by the time she’d retrieved it, a puddle of spilled milk had spread and was encroaching on the spot where the woman stood.
‘Can I help?’ Beth approached cautiously, not wanting to frighten her neighbour.
The woman glanced up, surprised but clearly grateful to see Beth standing there. ‘Oh, bless you, dear.’ Her watery eyes shimmered and the corners of her mouth turned down.
‘Why don’t you take this inside?’ Beth reached into the boot of the car, grabbed the remaining—and much lighter—bag of groceries and handed it to the woman. ‘I’ll clean up and bring everything else in for you.’
The woman shook her head. ‘That’s not necessary, really. You’re busy.’
‘Not that busy,’ Beth assured her.
The woman didn’t need any more convincing. She nodded, still visibly shaken, then ambled inside.
After shifting everything from the puddle of milk, Beth found the garden hose at the corner of the house and used it to wash away the milky mess and clean her hands, then, pulling the front of her T-shirt away from her body, deposited the clean shopping items into the makeshift basket so they wouldn’t drip all over her neighbour’s floors.
She stepped through the front door. ‘Hello?’
‘In here, dear.’
Beth made her way down the hall to the kitchen, where she found her neighbour standing at the counter, running the ruined shopping bag through her hands, its colourful netting standing out against her aged, sun-spotted skin.
Looking up at Beth, she smiled sadly. ‘It was silly of me to keep using it.’ She fingered the frayed ends of the material.
‘The old thing was well past its use-by date, but a friend made it for me a long time ago and I couldn’t bear to part with it. ’
‘That’s understandable,’ Beth said, emptying the items from her T-shirt onto the counter. ‘Maybe it can be fixed.’
‘Maybe.’
The poor woman seemed so lost in thought that Beth didn’t like the idea of leaving her just yet—she knew what it was like to be haunted by memories—but as soon as she contemplated staying, the woman snapped out of her reverie.
‘Oh, how rude of me!’ She made a beeline for the electric kettle on the other side of the kitchen. ‘Can I make you a cup of tea, dear? It’s the least I can do after you were kind enough to help me.’
Beth remembered to smile. ‘I’d love that, but maybe we should introduce ourselves? I’m Beth.’
The woman blinked at her, as if she’d forgotten that they didn’t actually know each other, then shook her head as if to clear it. ‘Yes, oh, yes, and I’m Flo. It’s lovely to meet you, Beth.’
‘Likewise, Flo. Can I help make the tea?’
Once they had steaming cups in hand, they moved into the adjacent living room.
‘Thank you again, dear,’ Flo said, placing her tea cup on the coffee table before lowering herself into an armchair. ‘You’re a godsend.’
‘Oh, I don’t know about that,’ Beth said, sitting in the chair opposite Flo’s.
‘I’m just glad I was there to help.’ She blew on her tea, racking her brains for something to say, then blurted the first thing that came to mind.
‘Maybe I could pick up some groceries for you each week? I mean, I call in across the road most days, so it wouldn’t be a bother. ’
‘It’s lovely of you to offer, dear, but heading into town to stock up on the essentials is a good excuse to keep active. Need to keep these old bones moving.’
Beth smiled, respecting Flo’s tenacity. ‘Well, at least let me bring you a carton of milk to replace the one that spilled.’
Flo nodded graciously. ‘That I can do.’
As they sipped their tea, Beth took the opportunity to look around the room.
Flo kept her living space neat and tidy.
A novel sat on the coffee table, along with a television remote and a program guide—apparently, they still made those.
On the wall opposite, the television was surrounded by shelving, where Flo had books, framed photos and ornaments displayed.
‘My most treasured possessions.’
Beth nodded politely, but the books called to her. ‘Do you mind if I take a closer look?’
‘No, of course not. Be my guest.’
Beth found the books were all collector’s editions of Pride and Prejudice. She threw a smile over her shoulder at Flo. ‘I’m a fan, too.’
‘You like to read?’
‘I do.’
Flo seemed genuinely pleased. ‘Well, you’re welcome to borrow one whenever you like.’
‘Oh, I could never! I’d be too afraid of ruining these. They’re all so beautiful.’
‘Books are meant to be read, dear. Even the beautiful ones.’
Tempted, Beth turned back to the books, but a silver jewellery box sitting next to the stack caught her eye.
An antique, by the look of it. It was badly tarnished and in need of a good polish.
She lifted a hand and traced the etchings on the lid.
An intricate floral design surrounded two letters. L.A. Initials, maybe?
‘A family heirloom,’ Flo told her, noticing her interest.
Beth had figured as much. As a child, she’d envied Annie, the little orphan in the movie she’d watched countless times, who’d clutched her locket and, filled with hope and confidence, sang about the day her parents would come to collect her.
That battered piece of jewellery had held so much significance for her.
It proved that she’d been loved. Treasured.
It told her story. Was a testament to her history.
Every time Beth had watched that movie, her yearning for a connection to her own past had grown.
Unlike Annie, she’d had her mother, of course, but she’d had no place, no stories, no family heirlooms, not even a photograph to connect her to her father or those who’d come before.
It was just her and Rosie and their never-ending moving from one place to the next.