Chapter 72
Chapter Seventy-Two
T wo days later, Bert placed some papers in front of her. ‘It’s a work agreement, like a contract. Read it when you go home and if you want to change anything, just let me know. I’ll come in every second weekend and any days you need to have off. I don’t want to give work away completely, otherwise I’ll have nothing to do. I do want time off to go fishing though and fix my yard up.’
She looked down at him from where she stood on a ladder. The large blades of the fan that kept the hot summer air circulating had obviously never been cleaned. The dust must have been an inch thick, but eight buckets of soapy water and five rags later, she had them glistening. The casement windows, the shelves and even the bathroom out the back all looked brand new. Nothing had escaped her cleaning cloth.
Although there was a steady run of customers, there had also been time to get the place organised, and Bert stayed behind the counter, watching everything she did. He left for a while and came back with some fish and chips for them to share for lunch. ‘Take a break. You haven’t stopped. You’re making me feel guilty for sitting here behind the counter.’
Munching on a chip, she grinned at him. ‘I like to be busy, and I already love this shop. It just needs a clean and, if you don’t mind, I could reorganise the stock a bit better.’
Bert munched on a chip, his eyes roaming around the shelves and other items stacked and piled in different places. ‘I must admit, I haven’t had the same enthusiasm since Eileen died.’ He cast his eyes down. ‘She was the love of my life. I miss her every day.’
Evie patted his wrinkled hand. ‘She sounds like she was lovely. You’ll have to show me a photo so I know what she looked like when you talk about her.’
‘You got a boyfriend?’
‘No. I did, but he was killed. He wasn’t a very nice person. I’m starting my new life here on Stradbroke.’
‘Good for you,’ Bert said, ‘and good for Bert’s Bait Shop.’
After a couple of weeks, Bert started to take some days off and left her to run the shop by herself. By now she had rearranged the stock, and made lists of what she wanted to order. In the afternoons when she finished her shift, she made her way to the yard behind the shop. At the back of the building was an old fibro house where Bert lived. He had a couple of chairs under the shade of a huge fig tree, and the two of them would sit on the chairs and go over the catalogue books and new brochures that the big suppliers sent out.
Bert always had a cold bottle of sparkling apple juice and two glasses ready, and she loved sitting in the cool of the afternoon, talking to him. He had lived on the island for over thirty years and told her stories about the massive humpback whales that travelled northward on their annual migration along the coastline. He talked about the different fish he caught along the eastern beaches, and the turtles that made their way up the dunes to lay their eggs. Every part of the island had a special place in his heart, and when he was younger, he and his wife explored every nook and cranny, photographing and listing the different wildlife that lived on the island.
Evie loved his stories, and she sometimes wished she could put him and Matilda together and just sit and listen to them. One afternoon, Bert’s only son, Ezra, joined them. He was visiting from Melbourne and was amazed at the change in the shop. He hugged Evie and talked to her like he had known her all his life. ‘Thank God you came along. I love Dad to bits, but the last thing I want to do is live on this island where I’ve been all my life, and work in the same shop that Dad did. I’m an actor, and I’ve just started to get some good roles in the movies and TV shows they’re making down south. I just got a small part in a show called ‘A Country Practice’.
‘Wow. That’s great, and don’t worry, I’ll look after your dad and the shop. This job is perfect for me, and I have no intention of leaving the island. She had surprised herself when she said that, and for the first time she recognised that living on Stradbroke, where there wasn’t any traffic and not many people, suited her fine.
The following week, when she sat and had an afternoon drink with Bert, he talked a lot about Ezra and his hope of becoming a famous actor. Bert’s eyebrows always moved up and down when he became animated, and she loved listening to him and watching the different expressions that crossed his weathered face. ‘He’s gay, you know,’ Bert said suddenly, before taking a long sip from his drink.
‘I thought so,’ Evie replied.
Bert looked down at the ground. ‘I hope you don’t think bad of him. He’s a good man.’
‘Oh, Bert. I would never think bad of him. He’s lovely. Kind. Gentle. Anyway,’ she sighed and blinked a few times, the words coming out louder than she had intended, ‘my father’s gay. He’s a really good person also.’
Bert got such a shock, he spat his drink out on the grass to the side of where he was sitting. Wiping his hand across his face, his eyes wide, he stared at Evie. ‘What? How could your father be gay?’
‘It’s a long story, but he tried to live a normal life and so he got married. Mum and him had me and then, when I was a teenager, they separated. He came out then. My mum and I still love him as much as ever.’ She felt an ache in her chest. It was a long time since she had seen her mum or dad. One day, when she’d sorted out her life, she would go and visit, or maybe they could come and see her. Sipping her drink, she looked at Bert. ‘Everyone’s different.’
‘It’s a changing world alright. Who would have ever thought I would employ a girl in my bait shop? Everyone is different.’
Evie cast a cheeky grin his way. ‘Was it a good decision to hire me?’
He leaned over and clinked his glass against hers. ‘Best bloody decision ever.’