Chapter 48
48
Hamish
Word that Rosie’s Cafe was for sale spread even faster than Ruth had envisaged. One morning Hamish was sitting at table three enjoying an early cooked breakfast when Audrey Franco burst in. She relayed the news to Ruth as if it wasn’t her cafe that was for sale. It wasn’t until Audrey started speculating about how much the asking price would be that the penny finally dropped. Without batting an eyelid, Ruth had patiently explained that if Audrey was interested in the business, she’d best discuss it with Bryan Chalmers. Audrey had blinked rapidly, opened and closed her mouth several times and then shifted her attention to the morning’s muffins on the counter.
Paradoxically, the news had been good for business: according to Ruth, Rosie’s had never been busier. And her car was back on the road. Hamish had taken her to Adelaide to pick it up, the colour draining from her face when Tony gave her the bill. She’d stayed to have lunch with Elliot and Hamish had moved on to an appointment of his own: another session with the psychologist.
He’d vowed that he wouldn’t jump to any conclusions about the success or failure of unburdening himself to a professional until he’d had at least six sessions. Lenard had said at the beginning if it wasn’t working for Hamish before then, he’d know, and he would willingly refer him to someone else. Now, after three fifty-minute sessions, Hamish could admit, cautiously, that he was making progress. There was a way to go yet and he still hadn’t told Ruth what he was doing. Initially, that was because he couldn’t see how it was any of her business, but as their relationship deepened, so did the feeling that he was holding something important back from her. That she’d be hurt he hadn’t confided in her. After all, it was her openness and honesty after he’d shared his account of Jonathon’s death that had prompted him to seek professional help, help he knew he needed but had only ever contemplated.
The days rolled into weeks. Easter came and went. Hamish spent as much time with Ruth as her busy life allowed. Operating a cafe was no mean feat and readying it for sale added to an already packed schedule.
Hamish concentrated on painting the East Terrace house’s external woodwork. He needed to finish it before the first hint of winter’s inclement weather. On top of that he did a few maintenance jobs at the cafe for Ruth. He helped her paint the inside walls one weekend after the cafe closed. Ruth fed them well and kept them caffeinated.
Laurie’s knee had improved markedly, enough that he could continue mopping the cafe floor each afternoon, but Hamish insisted on mowing his lawn and whatever else he could do around Laurie’s yard. It was on one such morning, after Hamish had finished mowing and they were sitting out back with a cuppa, that Laurie said, ‘I hear Chris Lehman’s not doing so well after his knee replacement. Got an infection, so I’m told. Ended up back in the hospital for a spell, on one of them drip things, with antibiotics. I saw him hobbling into the pub yesterday arvo. Don’t see how he’s gonna push a lawnmower any time soon.’
‘Is that so,’ Hamish said. ‘That’s a shame.’
‘Ain’t it. Esme’s grass needs mowing again. Grows at about the same rate as mine.’ Laurie reached for another biscuit to dunk in his tea.
‘Funny about that,’ Hamish said. ‘You can tell her I’ll come by tomorrow and cut it, if that suits her.’
Laurie nodded. ‘The garden shed’ll be unlocked. Just grab what you need.’
Hamish was totally aware of what was happening here, but found that he didn’t mind at all. Cutlers Bay was growing on him. The longer he lived here, the more he liked the gentle ebb and flow of his days. He was even thinking seriously about joining the golf club. But he’d bide his time; wait and see what happened with Rosie’s Cafe and Ruth before he committed himself further to the town and its community.
* * *
One Saturday evening towards the end of April, Hamish was at Ruth’s place. They ate together most evenings—if he wasn’t there, she was at his place. They sat at the kitchen table sharing takeaway fish and chips from Peg’s. He’d have been happy to eat them out of the paper but Ruth had produced plates and cutlery, along with leftover coleslaw from the cafe. Ruth hadn’t eaten much, had mostly rearranged the food on her plate. But the glass of wine he’d poured her was almost gone. He’d learned that if he was patient and if she wanted him to know, she’d eventually tell him whatever was on her mind.
‘I don’t think Elliot’s ever going to come to Cutlers Bay for a visit,’ she said, giving up on any pretence of eating and pushing away her plate. She picked up her wine and finished it off. ‘Robert’s death has really aged him. Taken away a lot of his confidence. I sometimes wonder if he’s merely marking time, you know, until he meets his maker. He refuses to talk about any of it, so I’ve stopped asking.’
‘But that hasn’t stopped you from worrying.’
‘No. Do you think I should say something to Stacey? I’d swear he’s lost weight and I’m no health professional, but I think he’s depressed. I’d never forgive myself if something happened and I hadn’t said anything to her.’
‘You’ve just answered your own question,’ Hamish said. ‘When I think back on my own situation, perhaps if someone had sat me down and told me a few home truths about the reality of my parents’ circumstances, I’d like to think I would have stepped in and helped. Even if it was only with financial help. But I kept my distance, never asked questions and no-one ever volunteered information. Basically, I buried my head in the sand. I don’t think Nat even realised how poorly they were coping and she visited them much more often than I did.’
‘Sometimes we only see what we want to see, not what’s actually there. On the other hand, your father struck me as an intensely private person. I never met your mother. There’s every chance no-one knew what was really going on because they chose not to share or access any support services. All I’ve ever heard about them is that they kept to themselves.’
‘That’s about all I’ve gleaned from the few conversations I’ve had with the neighbours.’ He stacked the empty plates and carried them to the sink. ‘But back to your niece. I think you should confide your concerns to her, then it’s up to her what she does with the information.’
‘Leave the dishes,’ Ruth said. But he’d already put the plug into the sink.
He turned on the hot water and squirted in detergent. ‘You wash enough dishes in the cafe,’ he said.
Ruth plucked a tea towel off the rail and he washed and she dried and put away. When they’d finished, they went through to the living room. Ruth plonked down onto the sofa.
‘That was a big sigh,’ Hamish said and sat down beside her.
‘I feel as if I’m in this awful limbo. I just want to get on with it but my hands are tied until the business sells. And that could take months or even years . Can you imagine that? To think that, as well as everything else, I’ll have to keep listening to bloody Audrey Franco rabbit on about things she knows nothing about. It’s doing my head in and it’s only been a month.’ She leaned into him and he slipped his arm around her shoulders.
‘What does Bryan say?’
‘Nothing! He comes in every morning for his coffee and all he talks about is the weather.’
‘Ask him.’
‘You think I haven’t?’ She levered herself away, far enough to be able to glare at him. ‘He says he’ll tell me when he has something solid, that he won’t give me false hope.’
‘That sounds fair enough.’
She gave a frustrated groan and fell back against him. He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. They sat that way until he felt the tension go out of her and she snuggled closer into him. He liked the way it felt; the feel of her beside him, her warmth, her strength. He liked that he’d been able to offer her something, even if it was only to listen.
‘I need to share something with you,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t going to tell you just yet, for no reason other than you have enough of your own stuff happening, or not happening, however you want to look at it.’
‘Go on,’ she prompted when he paused a beat too long.
‘You know those appointments I’ve been having in Adelaide?’
‘Uh-huh.’
‘I’ve been seeing a psychologist.’
She shuffled around until she was facing him. ‘That’s very courageous of you. Are you okay with how it’s going?’
‘I think so. Someone I met on a job referred me to this bloke. It took me five years to work up enough guts to ring him. The irony of it all was Lenard could only see me because one of his other clients died suddenly. Took his own life.’
Ruth gasped. ‘And he told you that? And you’re still seeing him? Not a very good advert for what he does.’
‘That’s what I thought and he guessed that’s what I’d think because he said it was an occupational hazard that made him try even harder with all his other clients.’
‘I get it, like a cardiologist not being surprised when one of his patients dies of a heart attack. But you’re okay, aren’t you? Not likely to become an occupational hazard?’ she said.
‘Yes, I’m very okay. My life is good and getting better by the day. Maybe it’s because of that I’ve been able to drum up the courage required to go back and rake over Jonathon’s death and the impact it had on me and especially my relationship with Dad. It’s a start.’
‘More than that,’ Ruth said. ‘You are a good man, Hamish Adams, the real thing.’
He wrapped his arms around her, pulled her close. Her phone screeched impatiently from the bench in the kitchen. ‘Don’t answer it,’ he whispered against her lips, but then drew back. ‘Don’t listen to me. It might be important.’
She disentangled herself and stood, her expression serious. ‘You’re here and no-one else rings on a Saturday night, not unless there’s a problem.’
Hamish rested back, closed his eyes and listened to the murmur of Ruth’s voice in the kitchen.
When she came back she had her phone in her hand and looked thunderstruck. ‘That was Bryan,’ she said. ‘He has someone who wants to look through the cafe and the flat and everything. He said they’re genuine, definitely not a tyre kicker. They’re not local but they’ve been staying in Cutlers Bay and have eaten at Rosie’s several times and now want to have a closer look. I wonder who it is? It’s school holidays and there’s always people around who I don’t recognise. I’m to make myself scarce at ten on Monday morning.’ She perched on the sofa beside Hamish, clutching her phone. ‘I’ve imagined this happening for so long and now it has I can hardly believe it is.’
‘Sometimes the best offer is the first one you get. What’ll you do if this is it and everything sells?’ he said, his heart thudding while he waited for her answer.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I wasn’t expecting it to happen so soon.’ She turned to face him and her voice trembled when she said, ‘Tell me what you think I should do.’