Chapter 17
It was infuriating how quickly a flu could make days and even weeks evaporate, and by the time Clem was back on her feet, they were a week into December.
‘I’m miles behind,’ Clem told Kev, writing the summer specials on the cafe chalkboard. ‘I’d normally have the specials menu designed and laminated by now, a Christmas turkey in the freezer at home, and at least half the presents purchased, wrapped and hidden in the wardrobe.’
‘And a Christmas tree in the corner of the cafe, with staff bonus envelopes dangling off each branch?’ Kev grinned, holding the ladder as she climbed down.
‘Bonus envelopes I could get behind, but a cafe Christmas tree—nuh uh. Customers’ kids would have a field day with the baubles, and this is a cheese-free zone. I’m not ramming the commercialism down anyone’s throat. Besides, who’s got time for putting trees together?’
As much as she hated to, she’d relied on Jack’s help the last week or so. He’d been a gem getting the girls to theatre rehearsals and swimming, and Lauren, Hazel and Mia had also stepped in to help.
‘We’re going there anyway,’ Mia and Hazel had both insisted. ‘And we need you to get better, for the cafe, if not our own selfish reasons.’
Romance had been the furthest thing from her mind too.
She’d been worried her relationship would be sucked into the Bermuda Triangle of her unshakable virus, but Spencer had kept in touch, and even called around with a doorstep delivery of flowers one week and soup the next while the girls were at school.
Then there were the messages he sent each day, little bright spots that made her hopeful for the summer ahead.
The cafe phone rang, and the call was a reminder that not everything had been smooth sailing in her absence.
‘You know how much we love our Wednesdays,’ Brenna said apologetically, ‘but there’ve been a few glitches over the last few weeks.
I don’t want to make a fuss, or embarrass sweet Selina, but my bank statement’s out.
She charged me $450 for my order last week, not $45.
I’m so used to tapping my card without looking and walking away, I should have checked,’ Brenna said.
‘Plus, Laura said her produce order was dropped off at the wrong address, and in this heat, the veggies were all wilted by the time her neighbour got home from work. It mightn’t be Selina’s fault, but she does seem to be the common link. ’
Apologising, Clem promised to set things right and hung up with a heavy heart.
‘We’ve got to get a few runs on the board again,’ Clem told Kev, looking at the tables that had remained empty throughout the quiet morning.
‘I’m going to call Selina tonight and let her go.
It’s not just about personality clashes, it’s about income, and we’re not making enough to sustain a casual.
Not even if I get the coffee van back on the road. ’
Kev nodded gravely, looking out to the field of sunflowers that had grown tall and thick while she’d been unwell.
‘It’s been mighty awkward since she and Seb started their cold war. I tried to make them sort things out while you were crook, but I’m not a miracle worker. Honestly, if I had to choose between her and Sebby, I’d pick him every day of the week.’
Clem leafed through their reservations book. The Wednesday coffee crew were back in this week, but their usual routine would soon be hijacked by school holidays and Christmas commitments. Apart from them and a couple of others, the lack of bookings and foot traffic painted a grave picture.
Clem signed. ‘We’ve had more bad reviews than ever since Selina started. I don’t think I have a choice.’ Isobel had also had to delete several scathing comments from their social media, and the stress of the bad reviews had added to her sluggish recovery.
The one positive to come out of this flu is a bit of perspective, Clem thought that evening, as she walked back to the house.
Her lungs felt clear for the first time in weeks, the sun was glorious on her pale skin, and she was confident she could walk into the hall tomorrow night and pick things up with Spencer where they’d left off.
Harriet bounded off the bus with a spring in her step.
‘Guess who got made the shortlist for next year’s middle school captain!’
Clem threw up her hands, dancing on the spot. ‘I’m guessing it’s my beautiful Harriet Mae, with her amazing acting skills and razor-sharp smarts! Well done, honey.’
‘Can we have a celebration dinner? We can invite Alma and Reggie, Pop and Uncle Jack. Spencer can come too if he wants, to keep Reggie’s dad company. Maybe the Grubbs could come as well?’
Clem skidded to a halt, puffing from her first real exertion in weeks. No way was she inviting Marco into her home.
‘Let’s shelve the party idea for now, honey, I’ve been sick.’
‘But you’re better now! You’re out of bed and you’re taking me to theatre practice tomorrow night. You promised.’
Clem took Harriet’s backpack with a nod. ‘Taking you to theatre practice is easier than hosting a party. Did Pansy get shortlisted too?’
Harriet bit her lip. ‘Not exactly. She was disqualified because she was promising biscuits and hot chocolate vouchers to everyone who voted for her. Her brother helped her print them up and everything.’
Clem burst out laughing. ‘Did she really? And are you sure it was her brother?’ She’d never met any other Grubb children, and no one had ever said anything to dispel her assumption that Pansy was an only child.
‘Her stepbrother. He’s pretty old. Like, Selina’s age.’
Not old enough to know he shouldn’t rig an election, Clem thought, grinning to herself. ‘Do you really think Pansy would want to come to a party for you, Harri? She might be a bit sad about the whole situation.’
Harriet tossed her school shoes off and bounded inside the house. ‘She is, but I told her I’d still be her friend anyway, because that’s what good leaders do.’
After the girls were in bed that evening, Clem called Selina.
‘I’m sorry, I can’t afford to keep you on,’ Clem said, deciding to gloss over the other incriminating factors.
‘I’m totes not surprised,’ Selina said. ‘TikTok says most small businesses fail in the first two years, so I’ve kinda been expecting it.’
Clem spluttered. ‘It’s quiet, not failing. Things will turn around when the sunflowers bloom,’ she said, unsure whether to be grateful her teenage cousin was taking the news so calmly, annoyed she had no idea she was the problem, or peeved at her suggestion that Sunny Cross was a lost cause.
‘Mmmm, if you say so,’ Selina said, hanging up without even thanking Clem for the opportunity.
Clem stomped into the lounge room, scowling at the promos for Love on the Land.
‘And next up tonight,’ the host said, ‘the conversation you’ve all been waiting for. Find out which of our farmers’ contestants have already a top-ten baby name list, which one has twins in the family, and which farmer wants to dive right in and get the baby making underway, ASAP.’
Clem reached for the remote, planning to switch channels, but footage of Spencer and Emily mooning about in the candlelit rotunda at South Giddi Giddi kept her watching.
Maybe I’m an idiot to think Sunny Cross isn’t failing, or that things will work out with Spencer.
She watched the on-screen antics as the two remaining girls faffed about, obviously trying to earn brownie points by washing Dolly in a wheelbarrow full of soapy water. Was Kyra’s white t-shirt a tactical decision?
Clem scowled, watching the petite blonde tug the wet fabric away from her skin and lacy bra.
Spencer wasn’t exactly horsing around with the ladies, but he didn’t look like he was hating it either.
They’ve obviously never bathed a toddler, Clem thought, watching Emily squeal as Dolly shook, showering both ladies with water.
The cameras cut to a shot of Emily and two women who were obviously her sisters, sitting with Spencer in a sumptuous sunroom.
Huge artwork hung on the walls, along with a painted portrait of what looked like Emily’s family, and the windows behind their seats revealed a sparkling blue swimming pool in the manicured yard.
She was so distracted by the grandeur of the Brewington-Major family home that she almost missed the conversation they were having.
This is the bit where they interrogate him …
‘And what about children? Have you and Emily talked about kids? Would you get right into it or would you hold off? Would you adopt if you couldn’t have your own?’
Clem held her breath, jabbing the volume higher. Emily smiled at Spencer, pulling his hand into her lap. ‘We’re ready to jump right in, aren’t we?’
The camera cut to Spencer, a different angle this time, showcasing a dining setting in the background that could double as a board table.
‘I’ve always wanted kids of my own, and I thought that chance was gone. But now, I can’t imagine a future without my own kids, my own flesh and blood, carrying on the Hawkins name.’
Clem dropped the remote as if it was scalding.
It didn’t matter that his feelings towards Emily had changed. He’d just announced on national TV the very reason he could never have a future with her.
Spencer was glad to have Ian’s help at the Penwarra Hall, moving the final pieces of set ready for painting.
Made from old chipboard, the sets were heavy, and the last thing he wanted was Clem attempting to shift one and doing her back right before Christmas.
Especially after the ghastly flu that had knocked her out for weeks.
Spencer started the Christmas music, hoping it would keep things light. Clem hadn’t replied to his goodnight text until this morning, and even that had sounded a little terse.
She couldn’t be sick of him—they’d barely seen one another while she was crook—but there’d also been an uptick in attention on the South Giddi Giddi website, and he’d silenced notifications for his personal social media after his inbox started to fill with even more crazies than usual.
Farmer Jonah had been in touch today.