Chapter 13
Melbourne Cup Day dawned clear and sunny, and as Clem took the path from her house to the cafe’s back door, she could smell the luscious roses in her garden.
A quick glance to the west revealed the sunflowers growing steadily too.
It wouldn’t be long until they were taller than her, and flush with cheerful yellow blooms.
Kev pulled into the driveway as she unlocked the double doors, and they soon had the lights on, chairs down and appliances humming.
It was moments like this, before the customers arrived, with the potential for a prosperous and productive day ahead, that Clem had come to appreciate the most. And with four large groups booked for their Melbourne Cup luncheon, she was keen for everything to run seamlessly.
She was dashing back to the house to wake the girls when her phone rang.
‘Hazel, I’ve been meaning to call you,’ Clem said, pausing in the laundry to start a load of washing.
In the background she could hear Cormac crying and TV cartoons at a higher-than-usual volume.
‘Don’t mind the noise, it’s another breakfast circus in the West household,’ Hazel said.
‘I was calling about Love on the Land. We need to get a game plan sorted so we can watch the next episode together, perv on those strapping country boys with their shirts off.’
‘Do they really all take their gear off?’ Clem nudged the fridge door open and pulled out the lunch boxes she’d packed the night before.
‘Yep, that’s what they do,’ Hazel said, glee in her voice.
‘They get all sweaty shearing sheep, grooming horses or wrestling runaway steers, then they have to take off their shirts and cool off in the dam. It’s practically a staple—I’ve seen it at least once every season and I’ll be spitting chips if I don’t get to see at least half a dozen more six packs before the curtains close. ’
With a laugh, Clem laid out the breakfast cereals and bowls.
‘Maybe you guys could come around tonight? Glass of wine each, and I’ve got dip and stinky cheese in the fridge. I’ll have plenty for dinner too, if you want to come earlier and settle in for the night.’
Now that Cormac had passed that helpless newborn stage, Clem felt more comfortable inviting Hazel around.
‘Trust me, you’d regret that invite,’ Hazel said. ‘Alma’s got hand, foot and mouth at the moment, she’s covered in spots. Mia said Reggie’s got it too, just what we need with new babies. It’s a full-time job running around with the Glen 20 and keeping the big kids away from them.’
‘Invitation officially retracted.’ Clem opened the doors to Indi and Harriet’s bedrooms and went back to the kitchen. ‘That sounds awful, I hope it nicks off quickly and my guys steer clear of it. With camp this week, I need everyone in tiptop shape.’
‘Are you sure Jack will be right babysitting Indi for two nights? I’d offer, but it’s already a madhouse here, and Mum’s away with her walking group. According to her texts, the Great South-west Walk is even greater than expected.’
‘She was telling me about their plans when their group came in for coffee last week. South-west Victoria’s got some gorgeous rugged coastlines, but I’m glad it’s her hiking them, not me.
Jack’ll be fine—he and Lauren know this farmhouse well, and you never know, maybe it’ll be a little taste tester for parenthood. ’
Hazel burst out laughing. ‘Nothing like a three-year-old to bring them back to earth.’
‘They’ll be fine, Indi’s not that bad.’ Clem glanced into her daughter’s unicorn-themed bedroom, groaning as she saw the blooms of colourful marker that now covered Indi’s quilt.
It wasn’t the first time she’d fallen asleep with a handful of markers and a colouring book on her lap, but evidently these ones had been uncapped.
‘God, you’re right. I won’t be getting nieces or nephews for years.
I’ll hide all the markers, vanquish every last skerrick of glitter, put the glues and paints out of reach and they should be fine. ’
The conversation moved on to Alma’s new habit of asking ‘who’s that?’ every time they bumped into somebody unfamiliar, which put Hazel in a pickle when she couldn’t recall their name, then Cormac’s latest growth spurt, before circling back to Love on the Land.
‘Oh, and did you see Spencer on telly last night? What a charmer, with that candlelit dinner for the girls, opening doors, bringing them cute lambs to bottle-feed. I like that he’s not kissing everyone on every episode.
Some of the other blokes treat it as a real snog-fest, don’t they?
Fancy having your in-laws watching you shove your tongue down a different girl’s throat every night.
Imagine if your kids watched it years later. No thank you.’
Clem cringed. It didn’t sound like something she wanted to watch either.
Harriet stumbled out of her room, squinting at the morning light and gravitating towards Clem. Her small arms wrapped around Clem’s waist and she burrowed her head into Clem’s skirt.
‘Hazel, I’ve got to run, but maybe next week you can come over?’
‘And we can watch it together? I’ll have to force you to watch the show, one way or another. Surely you’re as curious as me?’
Clem hugged Harriet, then gently propelled her into the bathroom. If she didn’t get through the shower quickly, their whole routine would go out the window and Clem’d be playing catch-up at the cafe all morning.
‘I don’t know. It might feel weird,’ Clem hedged.
‘I for one can’t wait to find out if he’s got his happily ever after with Farmer Emily.
He’s a devil for not telling us. As if we’d announce it to the world!
I haven’t seen her around, but I read somewhere that the producers make them sign non-disclosure contracts and stay out of sight until the final episode airs, to keep the suspense rolling. Do you think she’s at his house now?’
Clem leaned against the doorframe. She’d promised Spencer she’d keep the show outcome and their kiss a secret, but it was so tempting to share it with someone.
Indi woke up bellowing her name, providing the perfect excuse to hang up, but when the customers began filing in later that morning, Clem discovered Hazel wasn’t the only one wondering.
‘I heard Spencer’s chosen two lovers, and they’re both at his farm right now,’ Zelma Scudamore told Clem as she delivered sandwiches to the craft group’s table.
It was easy to distinguish their table from all the others, with their outrageously adorned hats and over-the-top fascinators.
‘I could have sworn I saw one of them at the supermarket this week, she was blonder than Marilyn Monroe, definitely not from around here. And when I watched the show, I put two and two together. The other one, the older girl, was at this very cafe, wasn’t she, Clem? ’
Clem gave a vague, noncommittal response and turned to serve the next table, only to discover that her grandfather’s pétanque group were equally curious.
‘Our Clemmy will have the inside scoop, her Harriet goes to Spencer’s school, and she’s got the connections with the catering job.
If anyone knows what’s what, it’s our Clementine,’ Arthur said, a proud smile on his dial.
It was the first time she’d seen football paraphernalia decorating a top hat, and she grinned as she fended off his questions.
‘I’m a vault of silence. Even if I knew any show secrets, my catering jobs would dry up if I blabbed about each client. ’
Arthur threw up his hands. ‘Where’s Selina? She’s a lovely girl, maybe she’ll tell her great pop what’s what between sweeps and races.’
Clem squirmed a little at the mention of Selina. Her newest employee was costing her a bomb in broken crockery and bad reviews. How was she going to pull the teenager into line without dividing the family?
‘Are you already regretting sticking your hand up for camp?’
Spencer whipped around. The campsite in the heart of the Grampians Mountain Range was humming with cicadas, birds and the hooting and hollering of excited campers stretching their legs after a four-hour bus ride.
As well as the hullabaloo, he’d been busy watching Clem throwing a frisbee with Harriet and her friends, and hadn’t heard Lyndall coming up behind him.
Great look, getting caught gawking at Clem within the first few hours of camp.
He’d have to be more discreet.
‘Nah,’ he said, giving the young teacher a quick grin.
‘Takes more than a little spew to scare me off. You should have seen the Canberra trip, it was like a domino effect—before long half the bus was chucking their guts up. When you’ve been teaching as long as I have, only having two green-gilled kids on the bus is a win. ’
Lyndall pointed to a mob of kangaroos hopping lazily past the cabins, clearly accustomed to the comings and goings of excitable school students.
‘How awesome is this spot? Feels like we’re in another country, not just a few hours over the border, though I’d be wary of signing up for a bigger bus trip. I’ve heard horror stories from old hands about bus trips,’ Lyndall said.
‘They don’t have to be like that. I put a lolly and soft drink ban on the Year 10 ski camp with Narradarra Secondary.
Winding roads up to the ski fields, and a class of teenagers all razzed up about seeing snow for the first time, the last thing we needed was sugar and artificial flavours added to the mix. Worked a treat.’
‘Get the bus trip over and done with and the rest of the camp’s usually a walk in the park.
Or a walk in the mountains, as the case may be,’ Lyndall added, opening her arms and turning her face to the sunshine that rippled through the gum trees.
‘Well, I’m glad we’ve got you instead of Dorky Darrell.
That guy’s more invested in his gym routine than the school students.
Beats me why they made him PE coordinator when he doesn’t like getting his white sneakers dirty. ’