Chapter Three
REENI: Have you spoken to Milo yet?
ME: No. How’s Instagram doing? Have we had any photos in?
REENI: You’re changing the subject. You need to get the camper moved. I like you living down the road from me. Talk to him.
ME: Stop bugging me. I will.
REENI: This is about survival. Do it now!
I shove my phone into my back jeans pocket and tilt my head up to the sky as if the early evening sun’s rays will fill me with confidence.
Only they fail, and simply warm my skin instead.
A couple pass me carrying Camper Café coffee cups and a spark of bravery or desperation slithers into my belly.
What exactly do I have to lose? I’m going down the way things are now, anyway.
The cracked concrete steps are gritty underfoot as I climb them to leave the beach.
The Camper Café should be finishing up now, so hopefully will be quiet while I try to have the conversation.
Milo has his back to me when the VW comes into view.
He’s bent over a table clearing it and a little black dog with flashes of white is at his feet, hoovering up the bits.
I nip at the inside of my cheek. Confrontation has never been my strong point, but Milo’s so easy-going, surely this shouldn’t be a battle?
As I try to run through how the conversation might go, Milo straightens up and turns slightly in my direction.
Shit. It’s Jackson. I’m frozen to the spot, although I can’t help studying his profile.
The brothers are similar, but different.
If you get close enough, they have the same almond-shaped eyes and strong jawlines, but Milo has dark hair and Jackson is taller with longer hair and a leaner outline.
He moves to pick up a chair and it jolts me into action.
I swivel and take the few steps to the community notice board at the side of the green and stare at it as if it has compelling information I have to read.
He’s supposed to be back in Australia. He’s not supposed to be here, now.
I curse under my breath. I’m an idiot. Why the hell wouldn’t Jackson be here with Milo? What the hell do I do now?
There’s a slam of a car door from behind me in the car park.
‘Hey, Mum,’ calls Jackson. ‘Glad you felt up to it.’
I shift so I can see the seating area of the café out of the corner of my eye.
Sophie is walking very slowly, leaning on Milo’s arm as they make their way through the tables.
Jackson pulls out a seat and Milo bends to help his mum sit.
I frown. The last time I saw Sophie, she was cracking jokes with a twinkle in her eye and talking about having walked five kilometres along the beach.
Although when I come to think about it, that was a few months ago.
Milo leaves to go back to the car and Jackson heads off to the camper van. I turn to study the information poster about the different birds that can be found on the beach, trying to work out the best way to make my escape. The Milo conversation can wait for another day.
‘Ellie.’ Sophie’s voice croaks a little, but it carries across to me, so it’s impossible to ignore without being rude. ‘Stop hiding. Come sit down.’
There goes my escape plan.
Sophie has always been lovely to me. Right from back when we were kids, and I got pregnant.
There were even times, guiltily, that I wished she was my own mother.
There was never any drama with her, simply honest, straightforward talking and listening.
I avoided her for several years in the aftermath of everything, so much so that she gave up trying to contact me, but once I opened the café, she often popped in for a brownie and hot chocolate and has never been anything but friendly.
I make my mouth turn up in a smile and walk over to her.
‘Hi. How are you?’ It’s a generic greeting and the minute it’s out of my mouth, I feel awkward because something doesn’t look right.
She’s more fragile than I remember. Her hair is thinning and wispy and her eyebrows have been drawn on and are very stark against her greying dull complexion.
I’m shocked and my cheeks ache from making them stay in a smile.
‘Ah. You know. Surviving.’ She gives me a smile which only half reaches her eyes.
‘Hello, stranger,’ says Milo, a smile lighting up his face. ‘Decided to take me up on my offer and try out the competition?’
He’s carrying a blanket and even though there’s still quite a bit of heat left in the day, he wraps it around his mum’s legs.
She flaps her hands at him. ‘I’m not an invalid. I can manage.’
‘I know.’ He steps back. ‘I’m only trying to help.’
‘Go get Ellie a milkshake.’ She looks up at me. ‘They’re lovely.’
‘No. I’m OK.’ I back away, beginning to make my retreat.
‘I’m not taking no for an answer.’ Sophie’s eyes crinkle up at the sides and I glimpse the twinkle I recognise. ‘I’m having a chocolate one. Go and check out the flavours.’ She studies me for a second. ‘Jackson’ll make you one.’
I’m saved from having to answer by the little dog snuffling around us. Sophie pats her thigh, and the terrier jumps up and nestles itself on her lap. She ruffles the dog behind its ears, and it leans into her. ‘Go on, you two. Give Tippi and me a bit of peace to enjoy the sea breeze while I can.’
‘Come on,’ says Milo. He squeezes his mum on the shoulder, then smiles at me and nods towards the camper van.
I follow him reluctantly, my whole body desperate to keep the distance between me and Jackson. He’s in the VW, behind the counter, mixing a drink. He looks up as we approach and his hand jerks, spilling milk from the jug he’s holding.
His hazel eyes look exactly like the ones still haunting my dreams. The splinters of gold and orange nestled in between chestnut brown are unforgettable.
They’re framed with long dark lashes that curl up ever so slightly and he has a gold eyebrow ring that’s new and suits him.
My insides spin like a lit Catherine wheel shedding sparks.
‘Are you two just going to stare at each other?’ says Milo, sounding like a teacher dealing with a pair of six-year-olds. He gives each of us a pointed stare.
I’m standing like a waxwork dummy and Jackson speaks first.
‘Hello, Ellie.’ His voice, deep and rhythmic and utterly familiar.
I try to make my mouth move, but nothing happens as I have no idea what to say, and the growing silence is mortifying.
‘Are you going to ignore me, again? Not even a hello?’ It’s impossible to ignore the hurt in his voice. Or is that me imagining it?
‘No,’ I say, flustered. The sparks rebounding around my chest are very distracting. ‘I mean, yes. Hello,’ I finish lamely, my mouth sticky and dry. My eyes drop out of his gaze and study the tips of my scuffed and sandy trainers.
There’s another elongated pause, which thankfully Milo breaks for a second time.
‘I promised Ellie a drink. Make her one of your famous milkshakes, bro.’
Jackson glares at his brother, then steps sideways revealing a list of drinks written on a board to the side of the till.
I scan the menu, filling my head with the options so there’s no space to think of anything else. As well as the ones you’d expect, there are several I’ve never even thought could be milkshakes. Strawberry and Kiwi. Vegan Pineapple. Banana Pudding. Green Matcha Tea. The Unicorn.
‘A unicorn?’ I blurt out.
Milo laughs. ‘The kids love that one. Vanilla shake, rainbow choc chips and sprinkles, squirts of pink and white whipped cream and a white chocolate unicorn. All Jackson’s creation. He’ll make you one.’ He leaves us and heads around the side of the van.
I’d always promised myself if I met Jackson again, I’d explain and apologise.
Make him see it was all my fault and nothing he’d done.
If I’d had my time again, I’d have done everything differently.
Everything. Now I’ve got that opportunity.
The chance to put the past behind me and free me to enjoy my future, except like the idiot I am, I have no words.
Instead, my head is full of the Jackson that’s standing right in front of me.
He’s tall and lean, and very much not the skinny boy I once knew.
‘Do you want to try one?’ he says, looking over at me. Although still frosty, his eyes are magnetic and connect to mine with a snap. ‘The unicorn one?’
Although the words are normal, his tone is flat and gruff and I can’t gauge how he’s feeling. I bite at my lip. ‘No. I think I’ll stick to being boring. I’ll have a chocolate one like your mum.’
‘If you say so.’ He disengages his eyes from mine easily and reaches behind him for a tall glass. ‘Don’t know if you’ll ever be boring.’
His last words are so quiet I’m not sure I heard them right. I shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other until he’s made the drinks and put them down on the counter.
‘How’s your mum? Is she OK?’ I ask, scratching around for small talk.
‘She’s fine,’ he says, the words clipped short. His eyes soften as he looks across to where his mum is sitting. ‘It’s nothing.’
I’ve said something wrong because his whole demeanour has shifted.
‘She’s not been well lately.’ Milo is back.
‘You never said. I hope she gets –’
‘Yes, she’s not felt great,’ Jackson says, cutting me off. ‘But she’s already on the mend.’
Milo shoots him a look, but stays quiet.
‘I know you like restoring stuff. But a mobile café’s different. The van looks fantastic,’ I say, trying to lighten the atmosphere and finding it easier now Milo’s with us.
‘Bit different from my normal classic cars, alright. I did a great job, didn’t I?’ says Milo as he picks up a milkshake. ‘You’d think my brother would be a little more appreciative, seeing as it’s bringing us in an income.’
I step back to take the whole van in. It’s impressive.
The open doors, lined with varnished wooden shelves, hold napkins, condiments, wooden cutlery and some takeaway menus.
Vintage light bulbs in cast-iron holders adorn the serving area and a neon Jaffles sign in bright pink glows on the back wall. Milo has done a great job.
I should get out of here, but something deep inside has me tethered to the spot. ‘What’s a jaffle?’ I ask, grasping at something to say.
‘An iconic Aussie staple.’ There’s a definite Australian twang to Jackson’s accent and it’s hot. ‘The elite toasted sandwich for any time of the day or night.’
‘You mean it’s just a toasted sandwich?’
He stares at me and my insides shrivel to the size of a wrinkled prune. ‘No.’ He waves his hand towards the handwritten menu. ‘Where have you ever seen eggs Benedict, smoked salmon with cream cheese and dill, or strawberry jam and meringue options on the menu with toasted sandwiches?’
‘OK. Point taken.’ If the ground could swallow me up right now, I’d be eternally grateful.
There’s another silence and the air seems to thicken and close in around me.
‘Why are you here, Ellie? What could you possibly have to say to me after all this time?’
He sounds angry and, to be honest, he has a point. What the hell am I doing here pretending to have small talk with him?
‘Bro, lay off her.’ Milo is scowling at his brother.
‘Keep out of this,’ Jackson growls back, then looks at me. ‘So? Because if you’ve got nothing to say, you may as well go.’
He’s right, I do have nothing to say. I’m too much of a coward. Shame is gurgling its way up my windpipe, smothering me. Maybe I should revert to what I came here for instead and then I can leave.
‘Are you OK?’ Milo is squeezing my arm gently.
I turn to face him, which has the advantage of blocking Jackson out of my vision. ‘I wanted to ask. It’s great having a new business and all, but would you be able to move it somewhere else?’ I gabble the words out in one breath.
‘What?’ He looks a bit taken aback.
‘Having two businesses so close together isn’t good for either of them.’
‘We’re doing fine,’ he says hesitantly, glancing across at Jackson. ‘I didn’t think it was too close to you.’
‘I know, but if you moved …’
He shrugs as he speaks. ‘I suppose we could.’
‘No way. Business is good. We’re not moving,’ says Jackson, bluntly, cutting straight across our conversation. He comes out from behind the counter and stands next to his brother. ‘Why should we?’ It’s almost a challenge.
I take a step backwards. ‘I thought …’
He cuts me off again. ‘Think again.’ He flashes a hard stare in my direction that rips through my chest, stealing my breath. ‘I’ll take this to Mum,’ he says to Milo, taking the milkshake from him. ‘I need to check she’s OK.’ And then without looking back he stalks away.
Milo shrugs awkwardly. ‘Sorry. He’s in a mood. I’ll talk to him about moving.’
‘It’s fine.’ I wave vaguely towards the car park, trying my damnedest to keep it together. ‘I need to go.’ And before I’m overcome with tears, I jog away from them all.
I know Reeni said I shouldn’t write that council letter, but this is one occasion when I won’t be taking her advice. I’ll definitely be finishing and sending that letter, because I don’t know how else to save myself and my café, and appealing to Jackson’s better nature has been an utter disaster.