Chapter 14 #3
The fresh air was what he needed and though he was confident Clem was out of sight, he lingered in the doorway, blocking Lachie’s view into the room, just to be safe.
He spent the next twenty minutes trying to reassure Lachie he was highly unlikely to sleepwalk all the way to the challenge swing in the middle of the night, strap himself into the harness and singlehandedly hoist himself to the top.
‘Remember how many students it took to haul the ropes that raise the swing? Even a kid as strong and muscly as you couldn’t do that all by yourself. Especially in the dark. Certainly not in the middle of the night.’
Lachie still didn’t look convinced. Spencer blew on his hands, rubbing them together and wishing he’d pulled on his jacket before heading outside.
Would Clem be in the bathroom still, or would she be snuggled up in his bed?
He found himself daydreaming about the latter possibility, but knew the first option was the smartest.
Though if Lachie asked to use his bathroom, they’d be screwed either way. He needed to get this locked down. ASAP.
‘Let’s go to the bathroom block,’ he said, loud enough for Clem’s benefit.
‘You can wash your face with warm water and go to the loo. Always works a treat for me when I’ve had a nightmare.
’ He guided the young boy off his porch and clamped an arm around his shoulder, partly to comfort him, but also to prevent him looking back and spotting Clem, who Spencer hoped would take the opportunity to return to her cabin.
Otherwise their decision to respect the professional setting might fall to the wayside.
The wait will be worth it though, he thought, smiling to himself as he ushered Lachie inside the toilet block, where moths fluttered around the floodlight. He looked at the helpless creatures, knowing exactly how they felt.
There were clean sheets hanging on the line when Clem pulled into Sunny Cross Farm the next afternoon, her heart full of camp memories, the boot full of luggage and Harriet fighting to stay awake.
‘Harriet,’ Clem said, rousing her tired daughter with a gentle shake. ‘Look who’s waiting for you.’
Clem waved across the driveway at Jack, who was sporting a moustache, and Lauren, who looked more dishevelled than Clem had ever seen her.
‘Where’s Indi?’ Harriet asked with yawn, fumbling with her seatbelt.
‘She crashed out on the couch,’ Jack said, helping Harriet with the buckle. ‘Apparently she and Reggie are wreaking havoc on the Gumnut room at daycare, and we were up a few times last night with a wet bed.’
He looked up and Clem clapped her hand over her mouth. It wasn’t a real moustache, it was drawn on.
‘What happened?’
‘Your little Picasso happened,’ Jack said with a wry grin.
Lauren came over, her straight blonde hair looking more like a bird’s nest than its usual blow-dried perfection. Clem scanned her, hoping Indi hadn’t drawn on her too, but it looked like Lauren had fared even worse, with a jagged patch of hair at eyebrow level.
She groaned. ‘Please tell me Indi didn’t play hairdressers?’
‘Everything’s fine, Clem. It went smoothly, really, just a few hiccups that didn’t seem worth worrying you about. How was camp? The photos on the school Facebook page looked fantastic. You’re braver than me going on the high ropes course.’
Harriet perked up then. ‘Mum screamed the loudest out of everyone on the challenge swing, she said she might’ve even wet her pants! In front of all the boys! It was so embarrassing. But she was awesome at archery and we had a great time, didn’t we Mum?’
Clem nodded, her heart full as Harriet raved about the activities they’d done together. The talent show didn’t even rate a mention.
Phew, looks like she’s made peace with the bungled performance.
Clem tugged at her sticky shirt, eager to get out of her rumpled travelling clothes.
While she’d been lucky to score a seat with the homesick kids rather than the carsick kids on the return bus trip, she’d managed to spill takeaway coffee on her shirt, and the curried egg sandwiches from her seat buddy’s lunch had been equally unforgiving on her sleeve.
And then there was the way her body ached in the most delicious places from unresolved sexual tension, and the tiredness that came from late nights making out with Spencer, but, fortunately, those things weren’t on display for her brother and his girlfriend to see.
‘I thought I’d hidden all the scissors, and all the permanent markers.
’ Clem gave them an apologetic wince, looking from her brother to the woman she hoped would be her future sister-in-law.
‘Did Indi get the stepladder out? They were all in the cupboards above the fridge.’ She watched Jack loop an arm around Lauren’s shoulders and press a kiss into her fair hair.
‘What happens on babysitting gigs, stays on babysitting gigs And vice versa for the camps, right Harri?’ Jack lowered his voice as they went inside.
Lauren looked sheepish. ‘It’s my fault—I was trying to find something to remove superglue from the kitchen benchtops.
I couldn’t reach the solvents above the freezer, and I forgot to put the ladder away after I finished with it.
I was thinking about getting a fringe anyway, this has just fast-tracked the decision.
And don’t worry, you can barely even notice the glue or the glitter. ’
‘Google promised that the permanent marker should fade any day now. Almost definitely before my next shift,’ Jack said with a yawn as they stepped into the lounge room. Sure enough, Indi was curled up asleep on the couch, wearing nothing but a red tutu, a Santa apron and Christmas elf ears.
She looked angelic, and although Clem suspected her daughter had been more naughty than nice, she felt a rush of motherly love as she watched her wild-haired girl snore loudly.
‘Angelic,’ she murmured.
‘With devilish tendencies,’ Jack agreed.
Clem sent them off with her thanks, and another heartfelt apology for the Indi-style ‘makeovers’.
Her phone trilled from the tote bag she’d left sitting on the verandah. Clem held her breath as she answered the call from the principal of the nearby Cockatoo Cove Area School.
‘It’s not good news I’m afraid,’ Calliope Myers said, explaining that the school council had decided not to shortlist Clem for their canteen catering contract.
‘We had so much trouble last year with the tractor scam, our school committee is gun-shy about potential bad publicity.’
‘Sorry, what bad publicity?’ Clem stared at the phone. ‘I’ve just got back from a Grampians camp, Calliope, my brain’s lagging I’m afraid.’ She gave a nervous chuckle. She really should have made a strong coffee and got a full night’s sleep before taking work calls.
‘Oh, school camp. You must be knackered, don’t give this another moment’s thought. We can chat Monday.’
Clem looked at the cafe, then back to the house. She didn’t want to spend the weekend dwelling on why she’d lost a canteen contract.
‘If there’s bad publicity, I need to know about it,’ she said firmly. ‘Give it to me straight.’
‘Your cafe’s collaboration with a reality TV program contestant rang a few alarm bells with our committee. If it were up to me, you would’ve been on the shortlist in a heartbeat.’
‘Are you saying you’re not choosing Sunny Cross Farm Gate Cafe because of my link with South Giddi Giddi honey? That’s ridiculous,’ Clem said.
Before she’d left for camp, Clem had approved Isobel’s social media campaign for the week, which featured photos of Spencer tending the hives, some of his promotional pictures for Love on the Land, and the Brealys’ products featured front and centre in the cafe.
As her sharp babysitter and social media assistant had predicted, leaning into the TV connection had sent the engagement levels on their socials skyrocketing. According to the emails Clem had read on the bus drive home, website enquiries and online sales of the honey had gone through the roof.
‘We’re supporting local producers. There’s nothing wrong with that.’
Calliope rushed to correct her. ‘Sorry, Clem, I’m making a hash of explaining this without breaking the school confidentiality clauses.
You’re entitled to whatever collabs and branding strategies you like for your business.
I’m just saying that some people, maybe conservative committee members, are worried what might happen if the show ends in disaster.
What if we start selling your gorgeous honey muesli bars at the canteen, and then the beekeeper turns out to be a drunk, or a playboy who hooked up with every woman he could during filming, or a misogynistic jerk? ’
Even more ridiculous. ‘Didn’t Spencer teach at Cockatoo Cove?’
‘Well before my time, so I only know of him. He was well liked among the teaching fraternity, but I’ve watched my fair share of reality TV.
All kinds of skeletons jump out of the closets on those shows.
If the program was done and dusted, it’d be a different story.
But we can’t wait until the series finishes airing in December to appoint a new caterer, and we can’t take the risk of another scandal at Cockatoo Cove.
You’re a businesswoman and a mum, Clem, I know you’ll understand. ’
Clem hung up in a daze. Was the principal right? Was she betting all her chips on Spencer, a man she’d grown attached to even though she didn’t really know him? A man who could very well be about to disgrace himself in front of viewers across Australia?
And if that happened, whether it was scripted or real, she’d look like an idiot for once again opening her heart to someone who couldn’t be trusted. Someone who would leave. Someone who would ghost her, like Adam had done. Give up on life, like her dad had when it got too hard.
Break it off now, before you get hurt.
Clem dragged her heels going back inside.
She spotted a red envelope on the kitchen bench.
It was a ray of colour against the boring white envelopes holding bills and bank statements, and she opened it without checking the handwriting or the return address.
Her mood dipped further when she recognised her mum’s handwriting, and she gripped the kitchen bench until her knuckles turned white.
Slowly, carefully, she opened the rubbish bin and threw in the pious letter.
What better example of what could happen after losing the love of your life.
In the thick of her grief, their mum had all but abandoned Clem and Jack.
She’d chosen her church over her children with barely a backwards glance, only making contact to remind them there was still time to repent and put their faith squarely in Him.
Jack had probably received the same letter, and he must have been in a hell of a hurry to leave without mentioning it.
A widow or a widower—it didn’t matter. The fact Spencer didn’t want to talk about Belle might be a red flag, and she knew all too well that unresolved grief made people unreliable, and flighty.
Even if Spencer came through this reality TV show with an untarnished image, could things really work between them if the subject of his late wife was off limits?
When Clem returned to the lounge room, Harriet was sitting beside Indi, telling her sleepy sister about camp.
Seeing the pair of them there, side-by-side, was worth every camp mishap, every favour she’d begged from Jack and Lauren, and every ounce of the tiredness that was consuming her body.
These girls of hers weren’t just sisters, they were friends, and she was so proud to be their mum.
Indi shrieked with delight when she spotted Clem, and the feeling of her daughter’s tiny arms wrapping around her legs, and the bond that had strengthened between her and Harriet on the trip, was like nothing else.
It was better than a few hot nights between the sheets, or beating Marco’s cafe in the school catering sphere, and it was certainly better than worrying about the things she couldn’t know for certain.