A Place to Remember Page 28

  ‘Us husbands have to stick together.’ John made a grab for her, but she was too fast, buzzing back to Blair.

  ‘Pour my coffee now, please, Blair. Then I need those boxes of memorabilia for the museum collection. Clive’s meeting me at the highway so I can transfer them. I see the boxes on the front veranda, John, but not the envelope of photos.’

  ‘Oh, right, I forgot.’

  ‘Of course you did,’ Katie muttered, loud enough for all to hear, even the seemingly invisible Nina.

  ‘They’re all in one parcel in the study,’ John said. ‘I’ll get it now.’

  ‘Here you go, Mum, take your coffee and come meet—’

  ‘Thank you, darling, and, John,’ Katie hollered, ‘be quick. Oh, Blair, thank goodness you don’t take after your father. I honestly don’t know what I’d… Oh!’

  Nina checked she was still smiling. Noticed at last. Hoorah!

  ‘You look familiar,’ was the woman’s opening line. ‘Have we met before? Sorry if I can’t recall where or when. Being mayor means I come into contact with a lot of people.’

  ‘Nina’s come up from Noosa for a visit,’ Blair butted in. He put down his father’s coffee cup, then straddled his own chair and mouthed something Nina didn’t understand. ‘Her mother spent time here in the eighties.’

  ‘Here? In Candlebark Creek?’ Katie blew on her coffee. She hadn’t yet sat down. ‘Doing what, exactly?’

  Did the woman really not remember, or was she feigning ignorance in front of her son? Nina couldn’t be sure. All she was thinking about was Ava’s distress at the hospital when she’d mentioned Katie-from-next-door.

  ‘No, her mother was a cook at Ivy-May in the eighties,’ Blair said.

  ‘Cook?’ Had a fly been buzzing around the room, Katie’s dropped jaw would have made the perfect landing place. Her hand stopped sharply part way to her mouth and coffee slopped onto her shirt. ‘Mother?’

  Yep, Nina told herself. She remembers!

  ‘Whoa, watch out.’ Blair took charge of the mug as his mother plucked at the coffee-stained shirt. ‘Did you burn yourself?’

  ‘I need the bathroom.’ A not so cool and collected Katie hurried out, calling, ‘And I need a white shirt of some sort from your father’s wardrobe, Blair – without paint stains if you can find one. Quickly, please.’

  ‘Good luck with that, son.’ John strolled unhurriedly back to the table. His calm was such a contrast to Katie’s agitation. Nina liked him.

  ‘Welcome to Ivy-May and to my life,’ he said softly, with surprising candour. ‘Chaotic mostly, then prosaic. That is until I discover a guest in the old cottage late at night.’

  ‘That was you outside in the dark?’ Nina asked.

  ‘Sorry if I frightened you. I’m certain Blair could have found you more comfortable accommodation, or at least told me you were there.’ John explained about the trespassers so Nina would understand the reason for the late-night snooping.

  ‘The cottage was kind of my idea. Blair suggested it would’ve been the one my mother stayed in. Her name is Ava,’ Nina said, ‘Ava Marchette, and she speaks fondly of her time here.’

  ‘Oh, Ava,’ John said.

  Nina wanted to squeal. What he’d written in the note was true. He remembers! ‘That’s right, my mother, Ava.’

  ‘No, no, Ava didn’t stay here.’ John’s matter-of-fact response stamped Nina’s excitement flat. ‘She was never in the cottage. We met recently about a portrait, although portraits were never my thing. Self-portraits, yes. I painted myself about a trillion times as I tried working out who the hell I was during the early years. But I forgot, Nina, you aren’t here for my story. You’re Ava’s daughter.’

  ‘Yes.’ Nina had wanted to say more, but she could hear Katie’s returning footsteps and Blair was back in the kitchen. She had to wait and ease into the conversation with John later.

  Katie came in, and John whispered, ‘Enjoy your stay down there on the creek. That cottage was my escape once.’ His head and eyes flicked in his ex-wife’s direction and he mumbled out of the side of a crooked mouth. ‘Wish it still was.’

  Katie flitted around the room, picking up her car keys and slipping her khaki jacket on over a plain white shirt.

  ‘Nice look,’ John said. ‘Maybe if you turned the collar up a bit.’

  Katie smacked away his hand. ‘Since when did you become the fashion expert?’

  ‘I know when a man’s shirt looks good on a woman.’ John caught Nina’s eye and she could have sworn he blushed.

  ‘Well, this old thing will do until I get to my hotel. And, John, when I’m back from the conference I’ll come over and help you sort through that wardrobe. You’ve got stuff in there from twenty years ago. No wonder you wear the same few things all the time. Finding anything else would be impossible. Blair, darling, I need you to phone me later. We have to talk.’ She turned her back on John and Nina at the table. ‘Later, and in private.’

  John rolled his eyes in Nina’s direction, ending with another wink.

  ‘And you, John Tate,’ Katie continued, ‘rather than sitting there muttering to yourself, you can help Blair load my car with those boxes. I’d like a moment with the very special visitor who warrants such a text message from my son.’

  ‘Nice to meet you.’ Nina lied.

  ‘That text was tongue-in-cheek, Mum. We’ve only just met, although I must say the circumstances were—’

  ‘Blair, darling, the boxes, please!’

  ‘Righty-ho, Captain Katie.’

  ‘As you can see,’ she said to Nina, once they were alone, ‘my son inherited the joker trait from his father.’

  ‘Yes, and I’m not sure what Blair said in his text, but I’m certain that—’

  ‘Nina, is it?’ Katie planted both palms flat on the table and leaned close enough for her to smell the strong concoction of musky perfume and hair product. ‘I’m not sure what you’re hoping to find here. I assume your mother is no longer with us, which makes you a daughter wanting to fill in the missing pieces of a life, or feel closer to her mother by coming out to a place she spent some time. I can understand that.’

  ‘My mother isn’t dead.’

  An expression Nina couldn’t work out crossed Katie’s face. She pulled back. ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’

  Nina’s first instinct was to ask what she was sorry for. Instead she remained silent to watch Katie climb out of the gaff.

  ‘I’m afraid I assumed…’ Katie stood tall again, her gaze focused on something beyond the bi-fold doors. The cook’s cottage, Nina suspected. ‘Is… is Ava here with you?’

  Nina shook her head. ‘No, Mum isn’t very well. But you’re right that I want to piece together some things from her past. I’m keen to put our family history in order while I can still get answers, and I’ve only recently found out Mum spent time in Candlebark Creek. That’s why I wanted to see the place.’

  ‘All loaded into the boot, Mum, ready for lift-off whenever you are.’ Blair winked at Nina as he walked back into the kitchen and took a glass from the cupboard. He really was very much like John.

  ‘I need your father, Blair. Where is he?’

  ‘Last seen heading to the Ivy-May yards, muttering to himself as usual. I’ll have him call when you land, if you like. Don’t forget the roadworks and the detour. They could add about thirty minutes to your airport drive.’

  ‘Damn, you’re right. I’ll call you as soon as I can, Blair. Goodbye, Nina.’ The back of Katie’s hand slapped the air.

  Nina hoped her coming here hadn’t been a mistake, and that failing to tell Ava about the trip hadn’t been a bigger one. She’d call Miriam and remind her to not say anything to anyone. This trip was to satisfy Nina’s curiosity and that was all. Perhaps she’d explain it to Ava one day.

  Probably not.

  Some things a mother never needs to know.

  Chapter 43

  Afternoon Teas

  Katie’s local council conference looked like being worse than predic
ted: a bunch of mostly middle-aged men with more interest in their political aspirations than their community, all arguing about things they barely understood. The sessions were yet to start. Delegates had convened for afternoon tea while registering. How on earth was she going to stand three full days of it, especially when she needed to be back at Ivy-May, taking charge?

  Katie’s rise from concerned community member to local committee chair, then elected councillor, had made her the popular choice for mayor. For twenty years she’d thrived on community involvement and had loved every project, including growing her accommodation business and getting Candlebark Creek on holidaymakers’ lists. The small town that might have died, like so many others, was given a second chance, and it credited one person with that: Kathryn Tate. How Katie longed to be back in her small town doing the things she enjoyed and, more importantly, keeping an eye on the young Marchette woman, who’d turned up out of the blue. But Kathryn Tate wasn’t at home. Instead she was on the not-so-sunny Sunshine Coast, stuck in a conference room, outnumbered by men, and out of her mind with worry.

  She excused herself from the current circle of naysayers surrounding her and slipped out to telephone her son, glad to find he was alone.

  ‘And where is your guest, Blair?’

  ‘Which one, Mum?’

  ‘Don’t be coy with me. The girl from this morning.’

  ‘Her name’s Nina.’ He sounded cross. ‘And she’s baking up a storm for the CWA ladies due any minute. How’s the conference shaping up?’

  ‘As I expected. Now, about Nina.’

  ‘So you did like her?’

  ‘Our time together this morning was too short for me to have formed an opinion, other than that she’s obviously quite a bit younger than you.’

  ‘Thirty does not put me over the hill.’

  ‘You know what happened the last time you fell in love with someone younger.’

  ‘Ouch! Thanks for the reminder, Mum.’

  ‘Blair, I’m sorry. I mean, there are local girls knocking, all from good families, if only you were interested in opening the door to one or two.’

  ‘Haven’t you noticed the hinges on my door wearing away while I work through the females in Candlebark Creek one at a time? My strike rate is not the best.’

  ‘Don’t be crass, Blair. Just make sure the next one you choose is content with country life. Not sharing, or not understanding, your partner’s passion is the quickest way to bring a marriage undone. Believe me.’

  ‘Not that I need to run potential dates by you, or Dad, but so you know, Nina and I have a lot in common.’

  ‘You’ve hardly known each other long enough to discover anything and, as you’re all too well aware, some women only tell you the things they want you to know. What says more about people are the things they don’t tell, which take time to reveal themselves, darling.’

  ‘If I let myself go through life thinking every woman out there is untrustworthy I’ll never marry again, and you, Mum, will never get more grandkids. So how about giving Nina a break? I know she comes from a good family, and it’s not as if she’s after the money I don’t have.’

  ‘You have a substantial property and an inheritance, Blair.’

  ‘And Nina’s mum started the Bark Hut Country Bakery group, which, according to its website, is not a small player. In fact, there’s a store not far from where you are, in Maroochydore. Maybe support a local business in town and bring a few muffins back with you.’

  Katie knew of the company. A development application had come across her desk in her first year with the council. She’d seen the name Ava Marchette and promptly cast her vote. She recalled the chain’s headquarters was somewhere on the Sunshine Coast. Did that mean Ava was still living close by?

  ‘Mum?’ Blair prompted.

  ‘I’m here to work,’ she reminded her son.

  ‘Okay, fine, a suggestion only.’ Blair was sounding edgy. ‘Look, I’m also busy with a dozen CWA ladies due any minute, so if you’re done discussing my love life…’

  Katie’s sigh was long and loud. ‘Blair, I’m worried about your father. He seemed a little off. Promise me you’ll give him some space until I get back in a couple of days and talk with him.’

  ‘What’s that mean?’

  ‘I mean keep your visitor away from Ivy-May.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Because he was looking tired.’

  ‘And I thought he perked right up in Nina’s company. But I’m happy to keep an eye on him – and on her.’ His sass was back. ‘Enjoy your conference, Mum, and don’t worry. The place isn’t going to fall apart because you’re not here for a few days. I’ve really got to go.’

  Katie returned to the conference, feigned family emergency and, with the help of a sympathetic local council counterpart, she secured both a loan car and the residential street address for Sunshine Coast resident Ava Marchette.

  *

  ‘If you’re looking for Ava, she’s not at home.’ The voice came from bushes dividing two identical neat villas. Katie turned to see a straw hat bound with pink ribbon and a pair of beady eyes peering over the foliage. Behind the woman, a courtyard was crowded with garden ornaments, including a pair of pink flamingoes acting as sentries to a carport housing a lolly-pink mobility scooter.

  ‘I was hoping to see her. Never mind.’

  ‘You’re a friend of Ava’s? I haven’t seen you before.’

  ‘Good gracious, the two of us go way back. Must be thirty years or more.’

  ‘That is indeed a firm friendship. How wonderful. She’ll be here any tick of the clock.’

  ‘How do you know what time?’

  ‘It’s book club day with Helen at the library. Ngaire, Taryn and the team put on a beaut afternoon tea.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Twenty minutes, I’d say.’

  ‘Right.’ Katie knew then why she loved her rural life.

  ‘You can leave a phone number if you want, or wait. You’re welcome to come inside for a cuppa. I was about to pop the kettle on when I saw you come up the path.’

  ‘As tempting as your invitation is…’ And it was. Katie might learn everything she needed to know about Ava from the nosy neighbour. ‘I do have some calls to make. I’ll wait in my car.’

  Would she wait? The twisting in her gut made her re-evaluate her purpose. What did she hope to achieve by seeing the woman? Ava Marchette was surely no longer a threat to Katie. Her daughter shouldn’t be either.

  *

  As predicted by Hedge Lady, a car displaying personalised plates with the initials AM turned into next door’s driveway.

  Ava…

  Chapter 44

  Sage Advice

  The afternoon tea Nina had helped prepare for the CWA bus group went down well, almost every morsel eaten as the ladies nattered.

  After waving the group away, Nina and Blair walked the venue with bags, collecting food scraps and napkins off the tables.

  ‘You want to tell me your secret, Nina?’

  Blair’s question startled her to a standstill. ‘My, ah, secret?’

  He was holding up an empty plate. ‘Those lavender shortbread were to die for.’

  ‘Oh, right, yes. My shortbread secret. Simple, really. It’s singing.’

  Blair chuckled. ‘Singing is the secret to your baking success?’

  Even Nina thought it sounded crazy, but she felt crazy being so close to Blair all afternoon. The attraction wasn’t his looks as much as his laidback approach to everything he did: no frills, no fakery. What you see is what you get.

  ‘One song in particular,’ she said. ‘Mum told us as kids that if we ate too many of her lavender shortbreads we’d turn purple and get a visit from the Purple People Eater.’ She delivered a few lines of the song. ‘If you want I can Google all the words for you.’

  ‘Thanks, but that’s probably not necessary.’

  They both laughed, relaxing into easy banter.

  ‘I’m glad you liked the biscuits,’ Nina said. They’
d cleared the deck. Only the kitchen to go before beer o’clock.

  Nina had too easily slipped back into cooking mode, with today’s afternoon tea highlighting what she’d been missing. Homemade food. How she wished she’d been a cook in her mum’s day when there was no social-media scrutiny that allowed one mean person to ruin a reputation with a review, warranted or not. These days, everyone considered themselves a critic, so-called experts who were no longer satisfied unless their meat was sous vide, their side orders foamed, or desserts served flambé style or lost in a liquid nitrogen fog. The need for every commercial cook to be a master chef in every sense was so great because no restaurant was interested in hiring a mediocre one. For that reason alone, Nina had steered herself away from the restaurant business. Like Ava, Nina loved simple food made with love.

  ‘Those CWA ladies sure know how to have a good time,’ she said. ‘And, boy, can they eat. There’s hardly anything left.’

  ‘All credit to your baking skills. And I confess I saved this for myself. Yum!’ Blair had the last lavender shortbread between his thumb and index finger. ‘I might love to cook and I’m not bad, even if I do say so myself, but never in a million years could I pull a feast like that together at such short notice.’

  ‘My mum says good bakers always rise to the occasion. It’s the yeast we can do.’

  Blair almost spluttered his mouthful of shortbread into his hand. ‘You’re not too bad at the gags yourself. Wait until I tell Dad he’s met his match.’

  ‘Mum told the same jokes all the time. It was kind of embarrassing.’

  ‘I met a lady not long ago who…’ Blair’s eyes widened, sparked, like he’d tripped a circuit breaker. His head tipped to one side, his gaze darting between Nina and the remaining piece of biscuit. ‘Come to think of it, these biscuits… ’

  ‘Are you going to compliment me on them again?’

  Nina had expected him to come back with a cheeky pun. Instead he said seriously, ‘Your cooking and these… They remind me of her.’

  ‘Ooh, I hope you’re thinking Nigella Lawson. I’d cope with that comparison.’ Nina’s laugh hung in the air.