Chapter 21
21
Ruth
‘Something wrong with your coffee, Hamish?’ I put the laden plate on the table in front him. He was sitting with his arms folded and he hadn’t touched the drink Mia had delivered at least ten minutes earlier. There was a pallor beneath his tan that I hadn’t noticed earlier. His eyes were glazed. He squinted and blinked a couple of times.
‘No, definitely not,’ he said, as if he’d been someplace else.
‘You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’
He made eye contact and then glanced away again. ‘I suppose I have, in a roundabout sort of a way.’
‘Is there anything I can do? I’m a good listener and sometimes it helps to just talk.’ After a quick scan of the bustling cafe, I felt compelled to add, ‘Not now, of course, but we close at two.’
When he didn’t answer, I wondered if he’d heard me, or was pretending he hadn’t to avoid embarrassment.
‘Do you know where my parents lived?’ he said.
I nodded.
‘Come around for a drink after you close. I’m cleaning out the garage and when I’ve finished there I’ll start on the yard. Any excuse to down tools will be welcome.’
‘What about I bring leftovers for a late lunch or an early tea? The cafe’s closed tomorrow and some things won’t keep.’
He smiled, not his most vivid smile, but he’d lost the haunted look of minutes earlier. ‘Sounds perfect.’
‘Let me make you another coffee. This one will be cold.’ I reached for the cup.
He stayed my hand with his own. ‘It’ll be fine, Ruth, thanks.’
‘See you later then,’ I said, mainly to confirm to myself that I was actually seeing him later. At a place other than the cafe, where there was always the counter between us.
‘Looking forward to it,’ he said and reached for the pepper grinder.
‘Enjoy.’ I hustled back to the kitchen and the waiting orders, but not without a quick peek over my shoulder to reassure myself he was eating the food I’d put in front of him. He was.
By two o’clock, the cafe was empty, George had gone and although I’d told Mia she could go too, she appeared to be in no hurry to leave, leisurely stacking chairs onto tables. I locked the front door and turned the sign. She mightn’t be impatient to go, but I was. For the first time in forever, I had a place to be other than here, never mind I’d all but invited myself. After I’d mopped the floor, I’d put together the food: leftover frittata, salad and an assortment of sweet treats. Then I’d have a shower and change clothes before I went. Didn’t want to go out smelling like fried food.
‘Do you want me to mop the floor?’ Mia said. ‘I don’t mind.’
‘What’s up? You’re usually the first out the door on Sunday afternoons.’
She gave a dramatic sigh and said, ‘Nothing to go home to. Cody’s at a mate’s place and Mum and Dad do nothing but argue. And when they’re not yelling at each other, the silence is nearly as bad.’
‘Is your dad’s back getting better?’
‘That’s what they argue about! He won’t do what the doctor and the physio say he should do and Mum’s just desperate for him to get better so he can leave.’
‘What do you think?
She rolled her shoulders into a sort of a shrug. ‘I dunno,’ she said. ‘Cody likes having Dad around. They do things together, you know, Xbox and stuff like that. I can take it or leave it.’ She screwed up her face. ‘But if him leaving means Mum’s mood improves, I’m all for that. When she’s not picking on Dad, it’s me or Cody in the firing line.’
‘Oh dear, things sound tough. Is there anyone you could talk to? A close girlfriend? Maybe your grandma?’
She shook her head vehemently. ‘No!’ she said. ‘It’s not their problem, Ruth,’ she continued, sounding just like her mother. ‘Mum would die if she knew I’d mentioned anything to you. She hates people, especially her mother, knowing our business. But her and Dad yelling at each other this morning? Everyone in Cutlers Bay would have heard that . It’s why I came to work early.’
‘In the unlikely event that Allie says anything to me, you have my word that I won’t repeat what you’ve told me. Not a word of it. Okay?’
‘Okay,’ Mia said in a small voice, looking at her feet rather than at me. My guess was she was already regretting sharing so much with me.
‘And Mia—’
She looked up.
‘You did a great job today. If you’re still good to mop the floor, please do, and put an extra thirty minutes on your timesheet. I’ll finish off in the kitchen.’
‘Cool,’ she said and went off to fetch the mop and bucket.
* * *
It was closer to four o’clock than three when I set off on the short walk to East Terrace. The afternoon was hot and I’d changed into tangerine-coloured linen shorts, a cream-coloured tank top and my favourite sandals. My hair was in a French braid and I wore lipstick the colour of the shorts. The picnic of leftovers was stowed in an insulated bag. I didn’t drive because I suspected wine might be involved. Besides, it wasn’t far.
There was no sign of Hamish in the garage or the front garden when I arrived. But he’d been there, because a pile of junk took up the full width of the driveway. I knocked on the front door. The flyscreen sported a hole bigger than my fist.
‘Come in … door’s unlocked,’ he called. ‘Make yourself at home. I’ll be out in a sec.’
I let myself in and followed the passage through to a dimly lit kitchen. I heaved the bag of food onto a faded green and white formica table. The reason for the dimness soon became obvious: a creeper of some kind crowded the outside of the kitchen window, restricting the natural light. I peered out the window to where I could see the end of the garage and an elderly rainwater tank.
‘The ivy will have to go.’ Hamish stood in the kitchen doorway. He flicked on the overhead light, towel-drying his hair with one hand. ‘Not that it’ll make much difference. A skylight is what’s needed.’ He wore khaki-coloured shorts and a black T-shirt; thongs on his feet. He paused and my face quickly warmed beneath his steady gaze. ‘You look nice,’ he said.
‘Thank you. So do you.’ We each sized up the other. Then he said, ‘Is that the food?’ and the spell was broken. Or maybe I’d imagined it in the first place.
Keep things in perspective, Ruth. Here is an attractive, interesting man who will have no reason to be in Cutlers Bay after the disposal of his parents’ estate. And a woman who used to be interesting and attractive but is tied to Cutlers Bay for the foreseeable future.
‘It’ll stay cold in there for a while.’
He slung the towel over the back of a chair and opened the fridge. ‘Beer? Or would you prefer a glass of wine? There’s white or red.’
‘White, thanks.’
He produced a stubby of beer and a bottle of Pikes Clare Valley Riesling.
‘Perfect,’ I said ‘Glasses?’
‘To the left, cupboard above your head.’
I took down the finest of white wine glasses and carefully placed it on the table.
Hamish raised his eyebrows. ‘A surprising find in Mum and Dad’s kitchen, to be sure. Would have been Mum not Dad. She didn’t mind a glass of wine. Dad was a beer man, the rare times he drank.’ He unscrewed the lid from the wine, poured me a generous amount and returned the bottle to the fridge. ‘Shall we take our drinks outside? It’s not too bad on the back verandah this late in the afternoon.’
‘There’s cheese and crackers.’ I unzipped the bag. The cheese board had survived the walk intact.
‘Pretty flash leftovers,’ he said.
‘Allie warned me the blue cheese dressing wouldn’t be popular and she was right, hence the leftover blue. The cheddar is a staple in my fridge, as are the Tasmanian brie and the olives.’
‘My lucky day,’ he said and picked up the cling-wrapped board along with his beer. ‘Grab your wine and follow me.’
We settled in two ancient armchairs with an upturned milk crate between us to serve as a table. ‘From the heap of stuff in the driveway, I gather you’ve made serious inroads into the clearing out and cleaning up. Are you on holidays?’
‘Retired,’ he said. He cut a piece of blue and loaded it onto a cracker. ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time.’
‘Retired from what?’
‘Diesel mechanic,’ he said and I automatically glanced at his hands. He chuckled. ‘Retired long enough to get the grease out from under my fingernails.’
‘The day you first came into the cafe I wondered if you worked outdoors … because of your tan,’ I added when he raised his eyebrows. I hoped he didn’t notice the flush of colour creeping up my neck. You were never too old to be embarrassed.
‘That’d be the golf course,’ he said, ‘but before I retired, I worked primarily in remote areas … seismic crews, oil and gas fields, stations. Money was good. If you know what you’re doing, a bloke could be gainfully employed twenty-four-seven, if he wanted to be.’
‘And are you having second thoughts now, about retiring?’
‘Kind of,’ he said. ‘It took me about a year to discover that everything I’d strived for wasn’t what I wanted after all. I was like a square peg in a round hole. So much of who we are is tied up in the work we do. You take the job out of the equation and what’s left?’
‘A good question. To the people in this town, I’m “Ruth from Rosie’s Cafe”. They’ve never known me as anyone else and they don’t give a thought to who Ruth might be without Rosie’s Cafe. I’m beginning to wonder myself. Fuzzy memories tell me she was okay … obviously not without her flaws. You know the bit that scares me the most?’
He shook his head.
‘When the time comes to hang up the apron, I won’t know who to be.’ I gulped a mouthful of wine. And then another. ‘So I do understand what you’re getting at.’
‘Maybe what we need to do when we retire,’ Hamish said after a thoughtful pause, ‘is reinvent ourselves. Whether we realise it’s what needs doing and actively do it, or just let it happen over time. Try something and discover it’s not for you, so try something different until you find what fits.’ He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his thighs. He looked as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. ‘And all the while you’re getting older, less able and coming to realise you’ve let some of the most important things just slip through your fingers.’
‘You sound as if you’ve been giving this a bit of thought,’ I said. With a mild shock, I realised my glass was empty.
He shrugged and cast me a sideways glance. ‘Probably not before time.’ He sat back in the chair and closed his eyes. ‘Mia said something this morning that touched a raw nerve. She said we were neighbours and I asked her if she’d known my parents. She replied that yes, she had.’ He swallowed hard. ‘She and her brother used to bring my mum home when they found her out wandering, not a clue where she was. When they brought her back, Dad would be cranky with her. And I thought, Hamish, where the hell were you when all this was happening? And why weren’t you there to help out sometimes so that the neighbour’s kids weren’t the ones bringing her home?’
‘And where were you?’
‘Working, with no-one other than myself in mind. Any wonder my marriage went down the tube the way it did. My sister kindly pointed out to me recently that’s there only room in a relationship for one selfish person and of course I thought she was referring to Andrea, my ex. But now I’m pretty sure she meant me.’
So he had been married. I stood. ‘I’m going to get a glass of water and more wine. Do you want another beer?’
‘Thanks.’
In the kitchen, I paused and took a deep breath, then I found a glass and filled it with tap water and drank it. What Hamish had recounted explained why he’d looked as if he’d seen a ghost this morning at the cafe. How should I respond? Real, meaningful conversation with someone I hardly knew but wanted to know better was something I’d forgotten how to do. What he’d shared with me deserved more than a trite or clichéd response. I grabbed another stubby and the wine bottle from the fridge, told myself to slow down on the wine and went outside, hoping that whatever I said would be the right thing for the circumstances.