Chapter 16
I’M PUFFING AND we’re not even halfway through the hike.
‘I would’ve thought all our long walks meant you were better prepared for a hike,’ Adam says, and he unzips his backpack and holds something out for me.
A hat. Does he always carry around a spare or did he notice this morning that I forgot to bring one and wanted to show off how prepared he is while I can barely take care of myself?
‘Take it,’ he says. ‘It’s sunny and your cheeks are flushed. ’
I take it and put it on.
‘You’re welcome.’ Adam’s shoulder pushes gently into mine as he overtakes me and any retort I might make is lost as I gasp for breath.
I can’t even blame the hills because we’re on flat ground. I unscrew the cap on my water bottle and gulp greedily, droplets rolling down my chin as I look ahead across the open countryside to the almost perfectly conical hill in the distance, a lone stone tower standing on its peak.
I continue following everyone along the path.
Mum and Aunt Carol walk together in matching blue shorts and headbands.
Their runners are that startling white that means they’re fresh out of the box.
The matching outfits stop at the T-shirts though.
Mum was clearly left out of the plan to get T-shirts printed—Princess Diana’s face isn’t stretched across her chest.
Dad trails behind them, whistling happily and stopping every so often to look at a tree or a bush or a blade of grass.
Uncle Max is next to him, binoculars in hand and a book on British birds in the side pocket of his cargo shorts.
While Dad’s love of nature lies in flora, Uncle Max sits on team fauna.
The path veers left through wild brambles and soon we’re in a forest, completely encased in shadow. Breathing in deeply, I’m met with the sweet tang of so many different earthy tones that I feel as though I’ve entered another world. One where I could be lost to the wilds.
I slow to look out for the red deer Bill said we might see in the forest. The only animals I’ve seen so far are the birds that Uncle Max pointed out while waving his book under my nose.
Bill takes us through an old gate, the sun filtering through the thinning forest. Bushes in varying shades of green, some spouting flowers, line the path and Dad’s hushed reverence as he bends over to inspect the white petals is met with murmured wonder from Uncle Max and he whips out his binoculars.
‘Isn’t this great?’ Tommy says.
‘So great,’ I gasp and stare enviously at his sweat-free skin.
While he excelled at every sport he tried, I excelled at getting out of PE.
I would’ve thought a PE teacher might be a bit more clued into the female menstrual cycle, but old Mr Bard never even noticed that I said I had cramps multiple times a month.
‘Natalia is jogging the trail and I’m playing videographer for her,’ Tommy says. He holds his phone pointed up to the lattice of branches above us. ‘She and Adam are going for a run tomorrow. He’s great,’ he says, pocketing his phone. ‘I’m happy for you, Sabrina.’
‘Yep, he’s pretty great.’ I grin wide to emphasise how fantastic I think he is, while inside I panic over what Mum’s reaction will be when she hears Natalia and Adam are going running together. She’ll probably hide Natalia’s runners so she can’t go and force me to take her place.
‘So, how’s work going, Tommy?’ I pivot the conversation. It’s easier to keep the charade going if I don’t have to talk about Adam.
‘Well,’ he says slowly, a twinkle in his eyes. ‘I just found out I’m getting an extra two minutes of airtime. Seven minutes talking sports isn’t quite the dream, but it’s one step closer to that co-host chair.’
‘Tommy, that’s fantastic! Congratulations.’
A niggle of resentment worms its way into my stomach.
At thirty-three he’s only three years older than me but it might as well be a decade considering the difference in our career progression.
He’s on air. Killing it. Like Gabi at her law firm.
Reese in her finance job—before she took leave to raise the girls.
Even Natalia and her influencer gig. My family are all high achievers, while I wave to them from the bottom of the ladder as I try desperately to keep my business, barely covering costs.
A business that my parents’ money paid for, and that is contingent on me securing my future because I’ve shown zero capability of doing that in the past.
When we set up our picnic spot I practically collapse on the closest blanket and fan my hands against my flaming cheeks.
Maybe this is my sign that I need to hit the gym when I get home.
Ugh! I’m not the hit-the-gym type. I’m the hey-I-should-get-a-gym-membership-but-I-won’t-because-dancing-around-the-kitchen-is-more-than-enough-cardio-for-me type.
Although I do go to Pilates when Hattie twists my arm and calls it bonding time.
Since most of the time we spend together now is all work-focused, we need to make a concerted effort to do things together that are strictly work-free zones. Even if they involve active wear.
Adam sits down beside me and drags his backpack into his lap. He looks like he’s just taken a leisurely stroll through the field of daisies over to our left instead of the gruelling hike I’ve endured.
‘This place is beautiful,’ Natalia says. Her face has a lovely pink tint to it. She raises her arms over her head, showing off her toned abs as she stretches.
Staring enviously at the shiny waves cascading down her back, I tug at the visor of my cap. I don’t dare remove it and show off the hair glued to my head by a thick layer of sweat.
‘Did you see the horses over there? And there’s a lovely stretch of wildflowers.’ Natalia points across the field to a bubbling stream. ‘The water is shallow so it’s an easy cross. Adam, you might like to check it out for your research. I can take you over there once we’ve eaten.’
‘That sounds wonderful,’ Mum says. ‘Sabrina loves horses.’
I whip my head towards Mum. I have never ridden, or touched, a horse in my life. Owning a couple of My Little Pony toys when I was younger does not equate to an interest in horses.
Bill clears his throat. ‘Who can tell me what’s special about this tree we’re sitting under?’ he asks as he pats the thick trunk.
Dad stands to inspect the leaves. ‘It’s a beech, Bill.’
‘I wonder what it symbolises,’ Gabi murmurs, leaning into me.
I release a low laugh, which I morph into a terrible fake cough when Mum and Aunt Carol turn to glare at us.
Lips twitching, Gabi and I share a look that makes me feel ten feet tall because we’re in on a joke together, and Gabi doesn’t often throw me a bone like this.
Even when we were kids she never really included me.
We lived a block away from Aunt Carol and Uncle Max and it was always Gabi and Tommy together while I watched from the outskirts.
Probably clutching a My Little Pony since I love horses so much.
‘Right you are, Paul,’ Bill says. ‘This is a beech tree, and it plays a very important role in an episode of Clovedale. Who can tell me what scene that was?’
Mum’s hand shoots into the air and she waves it frantically to get his attention.
‘You don’t need to raise your hand, Mum. This isn’t school,’ Gabi says.
‘I appreciate a raised hand. It’s much nicer than having twenty people shout the answer at you,’ Bill says. ‘Go on, Dianne.’
‘This is the tree where Clementine found Martha in labour and delivered the baby just as Martha’s husband came riding over that hill.
’ Mum points toward the hill dotted with daisies right as a horse gallops into view.
‘It’s him,’ she shrieks and jumps to her feet before plopping back down a moment later with a pout when the riderless horse gallops in the opposite direction.
‘And then two episodes later, she—’
‘Spoiler!’ Reese shouts, cutting off Aunt Carol.
‘If you don’t want spoilers you should’ve watched it when it first aired,’ Gabi says.
Reese glares daggers at her wife. ‘Well, I’m watching it now and I don’t want it ruined.’
‘You better get caught up before we visit the caves, because I have a special secret to share about the cave scene,’ Bill says, and both Mum and Aunt Carol gasp before turning to discuss what happened in the caves and whether that might be when we get a surprise appearance from one of the cast.
‘Now, let’s eat,’ Bill continues. ‘On the table behind us is a classic English picnic lunch. I recommend the pork pies. Enjoy.’
I’m the first to reach the delicious-looking spread of food and practically drooling when Dad joins me.
‘What do you think, love? Do we try a bit of everything?’
My stomach rumbles in response and we pile our plates with as much as they can hold. I’m already biting into a slab of tangy cheddar with the most delicious pickles I’ve ever eaten.
Adam sits beside me, his plate not quite as full as mine but I do spy carbs on there. We might finally be getting holiday Adam.
‘You should serve these pork pies at the cafe.’ Dad waves his half-eaten pie at me.
‘Mmm I think you’re right,’ I mumble through my full mouth. I swallow and wipe away the crumbs. ‘We might need to completely overhaul the menu and only serve the British classics.’
‘That’s not a sound business plan,’ Gabi says, her brows pinched. ‘Completely revamping the menu before you’ve established yourselves could sink you further into debt and then you’ll never pay Dad back.’
Heat blooms in my cheeks.
‘I think Sabrina was joking,’ Reese says.
Gabi’s brows pull even tighter together. ‘Oh. Right. Of course.’ She smooths the napkin draped over her lap. ‘Well, good. But have you given any thought into how you’re going to turn things around?’
The fire in my cheeks trails a path down my neck. ‘We’re doing fine.’
‘You haven’t made a profit, Sabrina.’
I glare at my older sister and then at Reese, who has access to the cafe’s financials. ‘Most new businesses don’t make a profit in their first year,’ I say.
‘Yes, but most of them have solid business plans that go beyond vibes and colour schemes,’ Gabi says.
I dig my nails into my palms as tears threaten to spill.
‘I could post about your cafe,’ Natalia says. ‘I have loads of Melbourne followers and I’m sure some of them are Richmond based. And we all know Melburnians will travel for a good coffee. Send me the links to your socials.’
‘Oh, you should, Sabrina,’ Mum says. ‘Sonia Wragley’s shop went viral on that video thing and she said they’ve been run off their feet since. Natalia can make you one of those videos and make it viral.’
‘You can’t just make something go viral,’ I mutter.
‘You should get T-shirts printed to advertise the cafe,’ Aunt Carol says, stretching her T-shirt out to show us Princess Diana’s smiling face. ‘We’ll all wear them and that will be great advertising.’
‘You live in Coffs Harbour,’ Tommy says. ‘No offence, Sabrina, but I can’t see people travelling that far for a coffee.’
‘What if it was the world’s best coffee?’ Amelia asks. Her fingers are covered in tomato sauce.
‘Sabrina just needs time for word to spread about how wonderful a baker she is,’ Dad says with a wink. ‘People will come from everywhere, even another state, for her cakes.’
While I appreciate it, Dad’s unrelenting faith in me is not helping right now.
Adam shifts beside me and I’m reminded that he is here, witnessing my failings and how little my family, with the exception of Dad, thinks of me.
‘Well, I have decided that we’re going to start banning people who come in and only order coffee while they sit there for hours using our wi-fi and taking up valuable real estate,’ I say.
While I shouldn’t poke at Adam because I truly do need to keep him onside as my fake boyfriend, I can’t help it.
Especially when he’s sitting here in the middle of this extremely humiliating conversation.
‘People don’t do that, do they?’ Dad looks like I’ve just told him that Santa Claus isn’t real. ‘Maybe if you offer people a free muffin on their first visit they won’t be able to resist buying one next time they come in.’
‘I tried that with one particular customer and they refused the muffin. And it was one of my rhubarb and custard ones too. I’ve even tried donuts, brownies, danishes. You name it, I’ve tried it.’
Adam stiffens beside me.
‘I don’t believe it.’ Now Dad looks like I’ve thrown the Easter Bunny under a bus.
‘Are they gluten free?’ Amelia asks. ‘My friend Zara can’t eat anything unless it’s gluten free. Maybe that person can’t eat gluten.’
‘I’m not sure giving away free muffins is the answer,’ Gabi says. ‘I’ve seen your numbers, Sabrina. You can’t afford giveaways.’
Does she think I’m stupid? I know it’ll probably take a unicorn strolling into A Cup of Joy to draw enough customers in, but it doesn’t mean I’ll give up on it now.
It’s my dream and I’ll hold on to it until I’m dragged out of there kicking and screaming.
I need to. Hattie’s savings are tied up in it. Dad’s retirement money too.
‘I think she’ll get there,’ Dad says with a nod and I nod along with him. Between the two of us, and Hattie, we will find a damn unicorn.
‘The two of you are as bad as each other,’ Gabi says. ‘Running a business takes a lot of work. And business acumen. You didn’t even finish university.’
Mum exhales loudly.
Me dropping out of university is almost as disappointing to her as my singledom. It’s not like I didn’t try. I just don’t have the book smarts that Gabi has. All I wanted to do was bake. And party. I was a great party guest because I always came loaded with baked goods.
‘I’m doing a business course,’ I say through clenched teeth. I don’t mention that I’m barely scraping through and have already used my one extension request.
‘You probably should’ve actually started it before you opened the business,’ says Gabi.
Adam clears his throat and my chest constricts.
Please don’t jump on the hate-on-Sabrina train, I beg silently.
Not wanting to hear what he has to say, I scramble to my feet and help Dad up.
Hand looped through his arm, we wander across the clearing to the trees by the stream.
Hawthorn, elder, hazel, blackthorn, spindle.
He rattles off their names and I match his enthusiasm with a smile of my own while the dream-killers stay on the picnic rugs.