Chapter 10
The final week of term three at Penwarra Area School was filled with spring hat parades, cross-country and class excursions, and by the time Friday rolled around, Harriet wasn’t the only one ready for the holidays to begin.
‘I’m glad it’s quiet today,’ Clem told Kev. ‘But I’ve got a feeling tomorrow’s going to be dead.’
‘Let’s hope it’s not too quiet, we’ll have a chocolate Bavarian cake and a boiled orange and almond cake going begging otherwise.’ He looked at the cakes cooling on the island bench.
And although Clem was disappointed to lose the dozen or so coffee and cake orders when the patchwork quilting crew cancelled their monthly brunch meeting half an hour later, she tried to turn it into a positive.
An opportunity to put the finishing touches on the coffee van before the Labour Day long weekend. Space to review the catering contracts, or update the website.
It wasn’t a hard decision to choose the fun job over the paperwork, but no sooner had Clem towed the sunflower-covered van out of the shed than she noticed the flat tyre.
She made a quick phone call to Jack, who was glad of the respite from his police paperwork. ‘Glad you discovered it here in the driveway, and not a hundred clicks away at a market or footy match.’
‘Me too,’ said Clem, thanking her brother for popping over. She leaned against the garage wall to stretch out her tight muscles. ‘My feet and quads are throbbing.’
‘Jogging to the finish line with your little girl will do that,’ Jack said, heading to the coffee van. ‘It gets easier, I promise. If Wednesday’s cross-country gave you a taste for running, you could try the Couch to 5k program. Lauren started out like that, and now she’s doing triathlons for fun.’
Clem threw her brother a dirty look. ‘Fat chance of that, a cross-country jog’s the extent of my running for the year. Me and Harri both, actually. She was trying to score a day off school this morning on account of her aching legs.’
Jack laughed, loosening the wheel nuts.
‘Need a hand?’
He shook his head, spinning the wheel.
‘All good, but I wouldn’t say no to one of your fruit smoothies when I’ve got this sorted.’
She headed back inside, feeling the twinge in her quads as she took the back steps two at a time.
The last of the customers were finishing up and Kev had the kitchen looking schmick.
‘Thanks so much for opening up this morning, Kev. You can clock off if you like, I’ll handle the last hour. Doesn’t look like I’ll be run off my feet.’
Kev fetched his things, then peered through the window to the gathering clouds. ‘They’re tipping a good soaking. Might get your sunflower seeds sowed this weekend too.’
While the predicted rain would be perfect for jump-starting the paddocks of sunflowers, it wouldn’t be so good for cafe patronage.
‘Thanks, Kev, if you’re sure you don’t mind getting the tractor out? If you can put the seeds in, Selina and I will handle any customers keen to brave the wet.’
He hovered in the doorway. ‘Oh, I nearly forgot. You just missed a call from Ken Kerbridge at the school. His number’s on the bench.’
Clem’s heart galloped.
She grabbed the phone and dialled the Penwarra Area School principal. He got to the point quickly. ‘Harriet’s been in a playground scrap. Nothing major, but we’d rather you heard about it from us so you can think about how you might tackle it before she gets home from school.’
Clem tugged on her ponytail. ‘Harriet’s never in trouble.’
Ken’s quiet chuckle came down the line. ‘We know it’s out of character. A disagreement about a family tree gone wrong. I’m sure she didn’t mean to slap anyone.’
Clem flushed red. Harriet slapped someone?
‘Given it’s the last day of term, we’ll stick with a warning and hope everyone forgets about it over the break. I expect it’s an isolated incident.’
Alone in the silent cafe, Clem sank into the comfy corner booth and worked her way through a honey baklava donut. Even with her mind in turmoil, she could still appreciate the nuanced flavours of the lighter South Giddi Giddi honey.
She was almost finished, and had completely forgotten about Jack’s smoothie, and the flat tyre, when her brother came through the back door.
‘Found the culprit,’ he said, holding up a small nail. ‘I’ve loaded the wheel into the patrol car, I’ll drop it at the tyre joint when I go to town this arvo, fit the new one back on tomorrow morning so you can back it into the garage before the rain hits.’
He spotted the plate before her, only the sticky shards of toffee remaining, and raised an eyebrow. ‘Girl troubles?’
Clem balled up her napkin, tossed it at him and headed for the kitchen. ‘Ugh, why do blokes always jump to that conclusion? But yes—girl troubles of the Harriet-slapping-another-student variety, to be precise.’
Jack raised both eyebrows this time. ‘Keep me posted, I’ll be interested to hear her side of the story.’
‘You and me both,’ Clem agreed, sending him off with a takeaway smoothie before walking the short distance between the cafe and her home.
That afternoon, as she made chocolate slice, Clem watched through the kitchen window as Harriet trudged down the driveway, pinballing from one side to the other, kicking rocks and dragging her feet. It was clear she was keen to delay coming inside.
Clem washed her hands, placed a tea towel over the crumbly mixture and went to meet her daughter.
Harriet’s reluctant walk was a variation of the walk she’d done herself at that age, determined to avoid the house full of arguments, the caustic silences that were colder than the ice-skating rink at Magic Mountain, and then, after her dad was gone, the religious artefacts that seemed to multiply overnight until they covered every surface.
And while Mr Kerbridge had explained how the project on family trees was intended to be a fun exercise that students could start researching in the school holidays, and finish during the term, the subsequent lunch break had involved teasing and Harriet’s subsequent retaliation.
Clem was glad she’d had the afternoon to regroup.
She smiled, opening the door. Harriet studied her, a wary expression on her face, before her shoulders slumped. ‘I think Miss Lyndall forgot to call you today. You’re not going to be happy when you hear from her.’
Clem held out her hand for Harriet’s schoolbag. Avoiding her eye, the young girl handed it over. ‘Where’s Indi? I’m going to look for the guinea pig.’
Clem took the last two steps and pulled Harriet into a hug. ‘I didn’t speak to Miss Lyndall, but I did have a call from your principal. It’s okay. I’m not angry, Harri, but I do want your help with some chocolate slice. Indi’s at daycare, I thought she could stay until five pm today.’
‘Really?’ Harriet looked as pleased as she did surprised, and Clem felt even worse. ‘She hardly ever stays late at daycare.’ She frowned. ‘Does this mean I’m in really big trouble?’
Clem shook her head. ‘I just want to find out what’s going on. Mr K said there was trouble in the playground.’
Harriet took the apron Clem passed her. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt anyone. I was just going to shove this mean boy, but he moved and my hand was there, and then he was crying and telling everyone I slapped him. I only bumped him in the face, but I was aiming for his chest, I promise.’
‘Which boy was this?’
Harriet took the wooden spoon, nearly sending the oats and coconut mixture flying with her rapid stirring. It took a bit of prompting from Clem before Harriet revealed the crux of the disagreement, and finally named a boy who had only recently moved to the district.
‘We were talking about our family trees and he said I mustn’t have a very good family if I didn’t even know my grandparents’ names. He said it was because you were divorced, and he said it really nastily, as if being divorced is like having chickenpox.’
‘You know that’s not true, don’t you?’
Harriet upended the cup of chocolate chips with gusto. ‘Yep. I think he just likes being mean. He thinks he can barge in and steal all the good Christmas concert roles too, because his mum’s a lawyer and he was sports class captain at his old school.’
‘Don’t let that stand in your way, Harri. You’re topping the class in heaps of your subjects and you’re not normally in trouble.’ She passed Harriet the lined baking tin.
Harriet pressed the slice mixture into the rectangular shape with a little more force than necessary, and Clem could tell the baking had helped her as much as the conversation. She spotted Harriet’s book lying on the benchtop.
‘We could read a chapter while it cooks. Remember when Anne lost her temper and cracked a chalkboard over Gilbert Blythe’s head? Everyone messes up every now and then.’
The air was steamy after a bout of thunderstorms, and the deluge that had fallen throughout the night made for a quiet Saturday afternoon at the cafe.
Clem’s damp skirt clung to her legs as she upended the outdoor chairs on the cafe deck, so the rainwater didn’t pool on the seats.
She was grateful both her barista and babysitter had offered to finish early.
They’d left half an hour ago, along with the last of the customers, and the fleeting burst of sunshine.
Indi zoomed up to the cafe entrance on her scooter, rubbing her eyes. She yawned widely.
‘When’s Harri coming back from Pansy’s birthday party?’ Another yawn slipped out, bigger this time, and Clem noticed scratches on her daughter’s cheeks. Peering into the garden, searching for the elusive guinea pig, no doubt.
‘She’ll be out all afternoon, remember? Maybe after your nap, we could dig out the umbrellas and go to Beachport, see what’s washed up on the shore in this weird weather?’