Chapter 23
23
Hamish
Hamish was on his way back to Cutlers Bay. He glanced in the rear-view mirror at the load in the back of the ute and asked himself for the umpteenth time why he’d bought a skylight to install in the kitchen of the old house—along with watching back-to-back video clips on YouTube describing how to install it. He felt confident that he could do the job, no sweat. What he wasn’t feeling confident about was why he’d bought the damn thing in the first place when all he’d planned was to tidy up the property so it could be sold. And what about the hundreds of dollars’ worth of paint and accoutrements packed in the back alongside the skylight? External and internal paint. Plus the new poly rainwater tank he’d ordered. He sure had let himself be carried away at Bunnings.
After Ruth’s precipitate departure the previous Monday afternoon and then the news the rubbish skip wouldn’t be delivered until the end of the week, he’d packed up and driven back to Adelaide that same day. The skip delivery was out of his control and try as he might, he could not fathom why Ruth had up and left like she had. He’d been enjoying her company and even though they hadn’t talked much, it had been nice to have someone working alongside him. Had he said or done something to upset her? He’d replayed the scene in the kitchen over and over and hadn’t come up with a feasible explanation. That had been one of Andrea’s favourite gripes about him: how clueless he was when it came to understanding women. What man did?
It had been late when he’d let himself into the apartment and he’d wished he’d stayed in Cutlers Bay, as contrary as that sounded. First thing the following morning he’d powered up his laptop and discovered that Brooke had emailed, saying the purchasers had been back to look and would take all the furniture except for his bed, the fridge and the kitchenware. He decided it could all go to his parents’ place. He’d boxed up the kitchenware that afternoon.
With the road stretching out in front of him, Hamish’s mood began to lighten the closer he travelled towards Cutlers Bay. When he turned into East Terrace, he felt remarkably upbeat, the streetscape invitingly familiar. Finding the rubbish skip completely blocking the driveway and having nowhere to park except on the street did nothing to dampen his mood. The skip would be there for a fortnight and Pete had agreed to drive up on Sunday, chose whatever he wanted to take back with him and help Hamish fill the skip with the remainder. There was a high chance he’d need to get the skip back a second time.
He spent the remainder of the afternoon removing what was left of the ivy, digging out the stump and throwing it all into the skip. At around six he packed away his tools, showered and shaved and took himself off, on foot, to the hotel for a meal and some company. Rosie’s Cafe was closed but when he walked past he did peer in through the front window for any signs of life. The interior was dim and the only light came from the drinks fridge. He told himself he wasn’t disappointed but knew that he was. He hadn’t heard a peep from Ruth since she’d walked out the front door Monday afternoon. Had he expected to? He hadn’t made contact with her, hadn’t told her he was off to Adelaide again or when he might be back. Should he have? The Sunday evening they’d spent together had been fun. They’d talked about anything and everything. She’d surprised him by how extensively she’d travelled in her younger years. He’d totally enjoyed himself. Did he want to repeat the experience? Yes, he did.
So there was his answer: he should have messaged her to tell her he’d gone back to Adelaide.
He crossed the street to the pub, but then caught sight of Cutlers Bay Fish & Chips & Takeaway. A burger and chips versus a schnitzel and chips? He vacillated briefly. Did he really feel like making beery small talk with the front bar regulars? Was that the sort of company he was after? An emphatic no.
Mind made up, he changed course and recrossed the road. If he had a hankering for a beer there was plenty in the fridge back at the house.
Stepping into the fish and chip shop was like stepping into a sauna. An extraction fan thundered away above the deep fryers, and a young man hunched over one: chips in, chips out. Several customers waited with their backs to the wall opposite the counter, heads bent, thumbs busy. Hamish felt in his pocket for his phone and when he didn’t find it, panicked before remembering he’d left it on the bathroom cabinet.
The middle-aged woman at the grill caught his eye and said, ‘What’ll it be, love?’
‘Hamburger with the lot and a minimum chips, thanks,’ Hamish said.
‘Drinks?’
He shook his head and stepped back to join the ranks of the others waiting for food. There were no tables, only two plastic chairs that had once been white. In front of the cash register, the vinyl floor tiles were worn right through. The shop was clean and the drinks fridge stacked but, like the woman flipping meat patties, it had a tired and time-worn feel about it.
Two customers left with bulging, sweaty plastic bags. Another customer came in and Hamish saw it was Mia Thomas.
She grinned when she recognised him. ‘Hi, Hamish.’
At the sound of her voice, the young man at the fryers glanced over his shoulder.
‘Hi, Rory,’ Mia said with a little wave. ‘See you back at school next week?’
Rory nodded, blushed scarlet and went back to the chips.
The woman at the grill raised her eyebrows and went to the bainmarie, where several paper-wrapped parcels waited. She loaded them into a carry bag. ‘There you go, love,’ she said and handed the bag across the counter to Mia. ‘Tell your mum I’ll put aside a roast chook for her tomorrow.’
‘Thanks, Peg.’ Mia paid and turned to Hamish. ‘Are you on foot?’
‘How did you know?’
‘Your ute’s parked out the front of your dad’s place. Do you want a ride home?’
‘Your order’s only a couple of minutes away,’ Peg said, helpfully.
‘Okay,’ Hamish replied, because how could he not?
Mia grinned. Peg winked at him. He had the distinct feeling he was missing something. Peg wrapped his burger and then scooped golden, salt-encrusted chips into a grease-proof bag.
Clutching his plastic bag, he followed Mia out to the maroon SUV parked in front of the shop. ‘Is this your car? I’ve seen you drive past in it.’
‘Nah, it’s Mum’s.’
‘But don’t you only have your Ls?’
‘That’s right, but Mum had to go next door and now you’re with me, so I’m okay.’
She laughed when Hamish said, ‘I feel used!’
The trip took all of three minutes and then Mia was carefully easing the SUV into the kerb behind his ute. ‘I’m working at the cafe tomorrow. Saturday and Sundays are my days. Will you be coming in for breakfast?’
‘There’s a high chance of that, if not for breakfast then for coffee. And thanks for the ride.’ He reached for the door handle. ‘But don’t make a habit of it, not until you have your Ps. You wouldn’t want Sergeant Cooper to catch you.’
‘No! Are you staying here for a few days, or going straight back to Adelaide?’
He paused, one hand on the door handle and the other clutching his dinner. ‘My ute,’ he said, nodding slowly. ‘You noticed it had been gone for a few days?’
‘Yep. Can’t help but notice, not when I’m up and down this street every day.’
‘So there’d be no getting away with anything in this town, not with you out and about,’ Hamish said and arched an eyebrow.
Mia shrugged but didn’t smile.
‘I can’t help it if I notice things,’ she said. ‘I’m not a stickybeak, I just notice.’
‘Nothing wrong with that. You drive carefully, Mia, and I might see you in the morning.’
‘Bye, Hamish. Enjoy your burger. Peg’s are the best.’
She puttered off, the L-plate nowhere to be seen. He watched until she’d indicated and made the turn into her mother’s driveway. The two lads on pushbikes he’d seen before wheeled through the gate moments after her. Laughter and voices drifted across the road before the front door slammed behind them.
Teenagers learning to drive, taking unnecessary risks behind the wheel of their parents’ car. A circumstance he wasn’t sorry he’d missed out on. The closest he’d ever been to being behind the wheel of any car his parents had owned was to clean it out. A year into his apprenticeship, he’d bought his first car and taught himself how to drive. There had been risks taken, although they hadn’t seemed unnecessary at the time.
He walked around to the back door, which he’d left unlocked, and wondered what had happened to Mia’s father. The man didn’t ever get a mention by anyone.
* * *
Pete arrived Sunday morning when Hamish was in the front garden watering the few surviving rosebushes he’d discovered in the tangle of weeds and dead shrubs. He turned off the hose and walked out to meet his brother-in-law.
‘You must have been up at sparrow’s fart,’ he said and eyed the four-by-two trailer hitched behind Pete’s ute.
‘Something like that,’ Pete said and folded his arms. ‘Nat wants her mum’s display cabinet, the one that’s in the lounge room, and the pine dresser in the kitchen,’ he said and kicked the closest trailer tyre.
‘Fair enough. They should both fit on the ute and you can put anything else you want in the trailer. Did you bring ropes and stuff?’
Pete jerked a thumb at the bulging hessian bag in the back of the ute. ‘All in there.’
Hamish headed past the rubbish skip towards the garage and Pete followed him. ‘See that pile?’ he said. ‘The one closest to the garage? I’ve stacked anything I thought you might want there and I’ve put all Dad’s fishing gear together over there. You’re welcome to poke through everything and what you don’t take will go into the skip.’
‘Don’t you want anything?’ Pete ambled over to the pile with the fishing gear.
‘Not really, except for a few tools, garden implements, the lawn mower and anything else that I think will come in useful here.’
Hamish went inside and left Pete to sort through his father-in-law’s belongings and the memories that went with them.
When Pete came in a while later, he meandered in and out of the rooms and surveyed the boxes of Hamish’s belongings stacked up along the passageway. ‘You look as if you’re moving in, mate,’ he said.
‘Settlement’s in a fortnight and I have to be out of my apartment. Here’s as good a place as any to store things.’ The bed, bedding and the towels in the bathroom, along with a few clothes, were all that was left to collect from the apartment. He’d sold the fridge to a friend of a friend and they’d picked it up the same day.
In the kitchen, Hamish flicked on the electric kettle. ‘Coffee? Have you eaten?’
‘I thought we could grab breakfast at that cafe down the street. Bloody good tucker those times we ate there after Christmas.’
‘Rosie’s doesn’t open until nine on weekends.’
‘Suits me. I’ll finish poking around outside. Then I’ll need to empty out the dresser and the cabinet in the lounge. What shall I do with all the crap that’s in it? Nat said she didn’t want any of it.’
Hamish slowly stirred his coffee and tried not to grit his teeth. It was his first coffee for the day. He hadn’t slept that well and he felt irritable. ‘That’s a bit harsh, mate, they’re the things Mum kept because they were precious to her.’
‘Yeah, well …’ Pete said and shuffled his feet. ‘You know what they say: What’s precious to one bloke is junk to another.’
‘Sure,’ Hamish said and shrugged. ‘What about your girls? Would they like a keepsake or two from their grandma? Did Nat ask them?’
Pete rolled his tongue around the inside of his mouth as if he was searching for an answer to Hamish’s question.
When he came up with nothing, Hamish said, ‘What say we take photos of what’s in the cabinet and the dresser and send them to the girls? Let them decide?’
Pete’s face screwed up as if he was in pain. ‘What if they all want the same things? And Sally’s got no place to store stuff. Neither has Carmel. It’d all end up at ours and Nat would go ballistic.’
‘They’re grown-ups, Pete. Let them sort it out among themselves.’
Pete’s face relaxed and his head bobbed up and down like a bobble head dog. ‘They might not want anything.’
‘Won’t hurt to ask. Let them decide. Too late after it’s all been offloaded to an op shop or a secondhand dealer.’
Pete grinned slowly and slapped his thigh. ‘Job’s done. On that note, let’s go eat breakfast. It’s past nine.’
They walked to the cafe and Hamish spent the time considering what he’d say to Ruth when he saw her. Yesterday he’d bought a few groceries from the supermarket and made his own toast for breakfast. He hadn’t wanted company and had enough insight to know he was better off on his own when he felt like that. Hamish recognised his potential to become a grumpy old man. Sometimes he suspected he was already halfway there. Maybe that’s what had scared Ruth off. That and him assuming she’d wanted to help him tear down the ivy in the heat on her day off and her offer hadn’t been just the wine talking.
There was a queue at the cash register, not long, but a queue nevertheless. Mia was taking orders and an older woman he didn’t recognise was delivering food to the couple sitting at his table.
‘Why don’t I grab us a table? I’ll have what I had last time,’ Pete said and, with remarkable agility, wound his way to the only unoccupied table in the back corner.
Hamish scanned the menu board and when it came to his turn, Mia took his order with a faltering smile. ‘There might be a bit of a wait,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’
‘Short-staffed?’
She nodded vigorously and held out the EFTPOS machine for him to tap his credit card. ‘George’ll be here soon and Lorna’s good but she’s not Ruth.’
‘Where’s Ruth?’
Mia bit her bottom lip and her gaze flicked around to see who might be in earshot. She leaned over the counter. ‘One of her twin brothers … he’s in intensive care at the Royal Adelaide, but Mum said they don’t expect him to live.’
‘Shit,’ Hamish said, his gut tying itself into a knot. ‘When did this happen?’
‘Friday afternoon. Mum was about to leave at the end of her shift when Ruth got the call.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Mum said she thought Ruth was going to faint when they told her.’ She passed Hamish his receipt. ‘What table are you sitting at?’
‘The one in the corner.’
‘Table four. I’ll get to your coffees soon.’
‘Thanks, Mia. No rush.’
When he sat down, Pete said, ‘What’s up?’
‘Ruth’s in Adelaide. One of her brothers is in intensive care, not expected to live.’
‘Bugger me. That’s cruel. She seemed like a nice woman.’
‘She is a nice woman,’ Hamish said. He took out his phone and tapped out a message. Ruth, I just heard about your brother. I’m sorry.
Her response was immediate: Thanks. Things not looking good. Waiting for his children to arrive.
‘Who’re you messaging?’ Pete said.
‘Ruth,’ Hamish answered. Look after yourself , he wrote in reply. It felt inadequate but what did you say to a friend in the circumstances? He wasn’t even sure if the short time they’d spent together meant they were friends. All he knew was that if she needed anything from him, he would willingly oblige. He hit send and then wished he’d said what he’d just thought.
Pete tapped his fingers on the tabletop and Hamish looked up to find his brother-in-law watching him speculatively.
Mia came with their coffees. ‘Is she okay?’ she asked Hamish as she put the mugs on the table.
‘I think so. But how did you—’
She touched his shoulder. ‘Like I said, I notice things.’
She left and Pete coughed and cleared his throat. ‘Mate, you must come in here pretty often.’
‘Coffee’s good and the food’s always excellent.’