Chapter 8 #2
He was the only solo table in the whole cafe, the rest were full of conversations, catch-ups and friends.
He was glad he’d brought his laptop with him, and thankful that the table Clem had saved him was close to a power point.
She arrived at his table, a denim apron over another one of her sunflower-themed dresses.
He’d spent a lot of time during the week thinking about Clem Crossley. He wasn’t going to ask what had upset her, but he was curious.
‘Here you are,’ she said, setting a pot of English breakfast tea in front of him, along with a jug of water, and a glass with lemon and ice.
‘We’ve got scones fresh out of the oven’, she said, her eyes dancing as she looked at the unopened menu in front of him.
‘Or I could get you a bagel if you prefer?’
She turned away for a moment, and he saw she had a ribbon tied around her ponytail, the aqua colour matching her eyes. ‘But you’d better move fast because the singing group is already talking about seconds.’
‘Scones it is, thanks,’ he said, passing the menu back to her.
‘So what’s this play about?’
Spencer looked at the laptop in front of him, contemplating the Word document he’d been working on when she walked over.
‘Well, the draft script isn’t finalised,’ he said, his eyes flicking to the slim word count at the bottom of the page. ‘But in broad terms, it’s set on a pirate ship, there’s a mystery, a murder and a hint of a love story.’
‘Do you really want kids involved, or is it more targeted at adults? Full disclosure, Harriet often goes into things headfirst, only to pull out later. If they’re not really looking for kids her age, tell me now and we can spare ourselves the whole merry-go-round.’
He grinned at her, liking the way she gestured as she talked, nearly taking out the little vase of flowers on the table as she mimed ‘merry-go-round’.
Spencer shifted his laptop out of the way to pour his tea.
‘We definitely want actors of all ages. Louisa drafts the script, then it’s over to me to work on revisions.
Once the auditions are held and the cast is locked in, we add and subtract minor roles as needed.
There’s already a great role that’d suit your Harriet, if she decides to go ahead. ’
He kept his attention on the milk he was pouring, not wanting to look Clem in the eye and lie straight to her face.
It was true that Louisa wrote a variety of characters every year, but right now the main parts were for a middle-aged man and a twenty-ish woman.
To say a rewrite was needed was the understatement of the year.
‘That’s great,’ Clem said, giving him a warm smile, then tapping on the iPad. ‘I’ll be back with your scones soon.’ He watched her coffee-brown ponytail swish from side to side as she headed back to the kitchen.
He got to work quickly, and by the time his scones had arrived, steaming, with a curl of semi-melted butter, he had roughed out a completely new character to suit a child Harriet’s age.
And while he knew on a practical level he should be putting in extra hours on lesson prep and marking, or reviewing pollination contracts and Ian’s hive relocation plans, the fictional world of plucky young pirates and shipwrecks was a welcome respite from reality.
He looked up between paragraphs to see Clem twirling around the cafe floor as if it were a ballroom, topping up glasses, replenishing water jugs and collecting tea cosies with a smile on her face.
The more time he spent with her, the more he saw how different she was from Belle, and the more ridiculous his earlier efforts to steer clear of her seemed.
His mind went to the contestants, silently acknowledging that he’d carefully selected women with physical features different to Belle. That tactic hadn’t worked out particularly well for him.
Lowering his head, he gave up psychoanalysing himself and let his fingers do the thinking, creating a world with a giant octopus, a rat-infested ship and nefarious characters intent on scheming and skullduggery.
‘Working hard?’
Spencer startled to see Clem in front of him, holding a fresh bottle of water. She took his empty plate, teapot and cup, laughing at the surprise on his face as he realised that not only was his scone finished, along with his water and tea, but most of the customers had left.
‘You looked like you were in another world there,’ she said. ‘Didn’t even flinch when the pony club committee started arguing over gymkhana dates.’
‘There was a pony club meeting in here?’
Clem nodded, hiding a smile. ‘And a craft group, five couples and a family from Victoria who ordered almost everything on the menu. I’m glad I sat you on the quiet side, you look like you’ve been very productive.’
Spencer had done a solid morning’s work on the community theatre production. The storyline mightn’t be structurally tight yet, but it was a start. And there was most definitely a role that would be perfect for a dramatic eight-year-old girl.
Clem wasn’t sure how the weekends went twice as fast as the weekdays, but before she knew it, Saturday had turned into Tuesday and there were only a few days until Harriet’s audition.
The early morning rush had been and gone, clearing out her gourmet bagels and homemade sausage rolls and making a decent dent on the trays of mixed slices.
Selina arrived just a few minutes late, which was better than the previous week, and only sulked a little when Clem insisted she tie her hair back properly.
‘It’s already half-up,’ Selina said, glaring at the purple velvet scrunchy Clem offered. ‘I’ve curled the back and I’m totes not wearing that.’
‘All your hair needs to be up, not just the front few strands. We can’t afford a one-star review for breakfast garnished with hair, no matter how silky or curled it is.
And you’re the one who traded shifts with Sebastian to work the student-free day.
It’s a scrunchy or an elastic band from the kitchen, your choice. ’
The teenager skulked off, choosing the latter option, and Clem looped Harriet’s favourite scrunchy around her wrist again.
Kev arrived shortly after 9 am, and she propped the scone recipe in front of him. ‘No time like the present, we’ve got Kathy’s singing group coming in this morning, and Pop has reserved a table for his pétanque crew.’
The doorbell jangled and she saw the first of the old timers ambling through the door. ‘Hi Barney, you’re in early! You guys are over by the fireplace.’
Barney Anderson, who also happened to be the president of the golf club, gave her a wink. ‘Gotta get here early if I want the best seat in the house and more time schmoozing with the prettiest girl in Penwarra.’
‘And here I was thinking you were here for the great coffee and the home cooking.’ Clem laughed. She brought him the menu, asked after his grandchildren, then opened the door for Hazel’s mum, Kathy, and her choir.
‘Brrr, it’s chilly out there, Clem. Late September shouldn’t feel so wintry,’ Kathy said, shaking out an umbrella.
‘What’s the gossip today, Clem?’ one of the singers asked. ‘Kathy’s gone gaga over her latest grandson, she had the nerve to abandon practice to accompany Hazel to his latest check-up. Can you believe it? Where’s the commitment?’
The ladies laughed, and Kathy whipped out her phone to show them the most recent photos of Cormac as Clem took their orders.
‘No gossip here.’ Clem smiled. ‘Just running around after my girls and trying to keep up with these changeable seasons. The weather’s got a mind of its own, and it’s throwing my supply of fresh fruit and seasonal veggies out of whack,’ she said.
‘Tell me, have you ladies had anything to do with the Penwarra theatre?’
Joy, one of the choir’s soloists, sat up a little straighter. ‘Oh, I always wanted to give that a shot but the rehearsals fall on craft nights.’
‘I hear the Brealy family is heavily involved,’ another of the singers said. ‘You know, the ones whose son-in-law is going on that TV show? Hard to imagine he’d have trouble getting a girlfriend, with those rugby thighs and that dark, brooding personality.’
‘He must be as shallow as a pauper’s grave if he’s part of a reality TV show,’ another lady said. ‘Keen to ramp up their own profiles and get their kit off, aren’t they? The girls spend half the show in bikinis from memory, and the blokes aren’t much better.’
Clem shook her head. ‘You’re thinking of Married at First Sight. Love on the Land is a lot more wholesome. And Spencer’s not like that at all. He’s a nice guy, at least as far as I can see.’
She left the singing group deliberating over this as she slipped into the kitchen to start on their orders.
Why had she blurted that out? Spencer was old enough to fight his own battles, and the way she’d jumped in to defend him had only drawn more attention to the topic instead of extinguishing it.
Kev’s scones were out of the oven by the time she finished making the first round of coffees and a pot of tea.
‘They look fabulous,’ she said, breaking one open and plating it up beside a little pot of cream and bowl of blackberry jam.
Kev tipped his head, giving the tray a sceptical look. ‘Still not as tall as yours.’
‘Not yet,’ Clem said. ‘But soon they will be, I have no doubt.’
The aroma of warm scones immediately attracted more orders from the nearby tables, and Clem was ferrying out three plates from Kev’s second batch when the doorbell jangled again and Spencer Hawkins walked in.
She set the plate down in front of Joy. ‘Speak of the devil,’ the older lady stage-whispered to Kathy. ‘I see what everyone means about rugby thighs, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a set like that wrapped around me.’
The table burst into laughter and Clem hurried away, hoping Spencer hadn’t heard.
‘This is a record,’ she said. ‘Three times in one week! Aren’t you supposed to be at school?’