Home Truths (22 page)

‘OLD!?
How can twenty-nine be old? You
doorak!'
A little Russian came in handy. Jennifer slammed the door. Windowpanes rattled throughout her flat.

She shrugged out of her winter gear and waited for half an hour, flicking through a magazine without looking at the glossy pages. Occasionally, she peered out of her window to the pavement below to make sure Vladimir wasn't lurking about before she dared to venture outside. This was a fine way to live, reluctant to leave your own home.

Home?
She growled, ran her fingers hard along her scalp, and knew what she had to do.

Winter coat, hat, scarf, gloves and fleecy boots back on against the bitter cold, she trundled downstairs, popped her head outside and scanned the street. No sign of Vladimir. Relief washed through her like a warm wine. A brisk walk through the park to the restaurant where she worked and get the deed done, confront her business partner, Phillip.

She told Phillip their partnership plans for opening a restaurant were over, her circumstances had changed. Perhaps she shouldn't have said anything until he'd put the cleaver away. With an angry look in his eyes, he hacked through a large pumpkin as if he was chopping off her head. She apologised profusely. Phillip didn't say anything in return, just whacked the cleaver down again and again until the pumpkin resembled baby food. She hurried out while all her limbs and digits were still connected to her body.

Out on the street the icy wind pushed at her back as she headed for Hyde Park. Squirrels darted from tree to path and back to tree, scurrying for tidbits in rubbish bins or leftovers from some kind person who'd fed the pigeons. Shrugging deeper into her coat, she crossed the bridge over the Serpentine and made her way back. Unfortunately, heading into the wind the biting cold felt like needles pricking her face and sliced right through to her body. She told herself a new coat would fix that.

She bought a couple of almond croissants at her favourite patisserie and headed home. Head bent low, she barely noticed fellow pedestrians as she hurried along the footpath, clutching her scarf firmly under her chin, while the bag containing her croissants flipped back and forth against her side.

She pushed her way into the small tiled foyer of her building. On a wall opposite the stairs were ten gleaming brass letterboxes. Hers had a thick, brown paper parcel shoved into it. Jennifer pulled it out and recovered the rest of her mail.

She juggled her parcels upstairs and dug deep into her coat pocket for keys. They weren't there. ‘Crap!' She searched all her pockets and purse, but no key. Something silvery caught her eye. Her key sat in the lock. She had not done that. Her key-ring was always in her coat pocket; all she had to do was pull the door closed to lock it.

Not knowing what to expect, Jennifer tentatively opened her door. She peeked inside and instantly icy fear covered her skin. She stood staring at the carnage, paralysed with shock. The contents of her drawers and cupboards lay scattered all over the living room. Carefully moving through her flat, she discovered someone had ransacked every room.

‘I've been burgled,' came out in a dry whisper. Her knees buckled and her bum found the mini-sofa. Outraged, she clenched her fists and trembled. She was convinced Vlad had done this out of spite. ‘The bastard,' she growled. He'd picked her pockets while he was trying to seduce her and let himself in.

A car horn tooted down on the street and brought her back to her trashed flat. She wondered whether to involve the police. What could she say — my ex-boyfriend went into a snit? She could tell them his visa was running out. They'd look at her and think
she
was in a snit, and crap would be flying back and forth. No, she decided. Unless anything of real value was missing, she wouldn't get the authorities involved.

With a heavy sigh, Jennifer pushed herself off her sofa and began gathering paperwork. Four hours later, she could almost smile again. The mess had given her the opportunity to cull amassed crap she'd been saving, and didn't know what for.

She made a hot chocolate and sat at her coffee table with her croissant
.
Between sips and a tasty bite, she sorted through her mail. Hoping it was a treat and not something else to worry about, she left the long parcel covered in brown paper until last. Before opening it, she checked the back to see who had sent it, but there was no return address. She ripped it open.

Someone had sent her the
Tumble Creek Gazette.
A photo slipped from the pages onto her lap. Her breath caught and something happened to her stomach. ‘Calum,' she whispered. His engaging, wicked smile looked back. She wanted to laugh, cry and scream all at the same time. She turned the photo over to see if he'd written anything. Flowery, feminine handwriting on the back said, ‘He's missing you.' Jennifer dropped the photo on the coffee table and grabbed a handful of tissues to dab her eyes and blow her nose. Calum's smiling eyes looked at her from the photo on the table, and she wept a little louder. She turned his photo over, only to turn it back again. God, she missed him so much.

Through a blur of tears, she studied the
Tumble Creek Gazette
. Perhaps there was something in it about Calum. She trumpeted into another tissue, dabbed her eyes and tried to focus.

A full colour photo of her slung over Bruce's shoulder as he carried her down the ladder took up the front page. Her mouth and eyes were agape, and she had a death grip on his jacket. The headline read:
Bob Feldman's Niece Follows In Her Uncle's Footsteps
. Then underneath in smaller writing a caption read,
In more ways than one.

Jennifer slumped back, laughing and crying at the same time.

Turning back to the Gazette, another photo caught her attention. A couple outside the church on their wedding day. She recognised Bruce as the groom, and his heavily pregnant bride. It was the same woman who, at the Tumble Creek's Blue Sapphire Pub, had put her hand on Calum's arm. Was she carrying his baby but marrying Bruce, the fireman? No, that was absurd, neither man would go for that.

Looking closer, it was obvious. Bruce and Kathleen's love for each other radiated from the page.

Jennifer wiped her eyes so she could read the official announcement.

Kathleen Gregory married Bruce Winter on Saturday.

The article went on to say that many Tumble Creek locals had attended the wedding reception at Sapphire Winery, once owned by the late Bob Feldman.

Congratulations to the happy couple, who finally took a united stand and married.

Like Trudy said, all that talk about Calum being the baby's father was just a silly rumour. An image flashed into her thoughts: her last day in Tumble Creek, after an amazing night of hot sex, the thugs phoned and Calum held her. Needing to get away, she'd mentioned the paternity rumour. Deep down she knew Calum would never do such a thing. What she did to him was ugly. His devastated expression broke her heart. It was too late now; she couldn't take back her accusation. And she would never be able to erase the sadness she'd seen in his eyes that day. But it did the trick, she got away. Got away from the worry those thugs would find her and the ruckus that would cause in the small town. But Calum was right; the thugs would never find her in Tumble Creek unless they followed Bret. And even he wouldn't be stupid enough to lead them to his big sister. She bit into her croissant and munched away her sorrows and sipped her cocoa…thinking. A plan was forming. She straightened and, without calculating what time it might be in Sydney, she picked up her phone.

Sofie answered, sounding croaky. ‘Jen, is that you?'

‘Sorry, did I wake you?'

‘Kind of. I've got a virus and fell asleep watching telly. It's nearly nine-thirty in the morning. Are you okay? You sound awful. Did you hear from Bret — is something wrong?'

‘Bret's fine. He rang yesterday, said he's in Broome, but who really knows. I gave him your new number, like you said.'

‘Good, he'll ring soon then…maybe, the little shit.'

‘Listen Sofe, I've decided to come home.'

Deafening shouts and yells came through the earpiece. Jennifer winced and yanked the handset away from her ear.

‘Bloody hell, Sofe!'

‘Oh Jen, I'm so happy.
Whoohoo!
Yesss!'

‘Who would have guessed,' Jennifer quipped.

‘So when will you get here?'

‘I have to sort out a few things — my flat, my packing, my job. The last one is scary.'

‘See? I told you, your home is here. Have you thought about what you want to do when you get here?' Sofie asked cautiously. ‘The rewiring is underway at the shop,' she prompted. ‘Calum's been doing a great job plus overseeing the plumber. He's locked the cellar until we decide what we want to do with the wine. But I think it should be put to good use and…'

As Sofie talked on, Jennifer tried to find a way to broach the subject of opening a restaurant. She hoped Sofie wouldn't object. After all, it was originally Sofie's idea to do something with the shop; she just hadn't known what.

When Sofie paused to take a breath, Jennifer jumped in. ‘I was thinking of opening a restaurant.'

Silence.

‘Sofe! Sofie!' But all Jennifer could hear were wailing sobs. ‘For God's sake, Sofe, if you had your own plans that's fine too. Did you want to open an art gallery?'

‘No — no plans.' Sniff. ‘Hang on a mo.'
Pthpthpthpth.

‘What the hell was that?' Jennifer held the phone away from her ear.

‘I blew my nose.'

‘Oh Christ! Don't do that without warning me, I thought you were choking or something.'

‘Sorry. Look, to be quite honest, I don't know what I want, except I want to move to Tumble Creek and live there for the rest of my life. I love the place. It feels like home. And now you'll be there, I'm over the moon.'

‘But how will Claudia feel about this?'

‘Claudia.' Sofie let out a long sigh. ‘She's broken-hearted. It seems Skids is over his Goth phase and into cheerleaders.'

‘Oh, poor kid, she'll be scarred for life.' Jennifer's heart ached for her.

‘Nah. She has a new interest — voodoo, and sticking pins in Ken Mattel.'

There was total silence as Jennifer tried to come to grips with her niece's attraction to the darker side.

‘Lighten up, Jen,' Sofie laughed. ‘I'm kidding!'

‘Oh.' Jennifer let go a breath she hadn't even realised she'd been holding. ‘Don't do that to me, Sofe. Is Claudia all right?'

‘Sure, she's buried her nose deep in her schoolbooks, determined that her life is totally under her control and it's up to her to make the most of it. Hope it lasts.'

‘I have a feeling it will.'

‘Anyway, Claudia's been ranting about how much she hates Sydney. I know it's a phase and she wants to run away from all the crap that's been happening to her lately, but the interesting thing is, she's made friends with Calum's young sister Michelle. They're in contact every night after school, lots of emails and texts flying back and forth. Michelle's a lovely girl. Not once did she ask Claudia why she's trying to be a Goth. I think Claudia will be quite happy to make a move.'

Jennifer realised that Calum and Michelle, were much alike, always easygoing and non-judgemental.

‘Wow. I don't know what to say. I'm just so happy I'm speechless. Tumble Creek's given us all a sense of belonging.'

‘I think a restaurant is perfect, it's a fabulous idea. I'm so excited.'

‘Sofe, how do you feel about getting involved in the planning and refurbishing? I imagine Calum will need help here and there?'

‘I'd love to. But the courtyard is mine. Plans are already forming for alfresco dining. I'm getting butterflies just thinking about it. I can help weekends and over the school holidays. Aside from that, I'm committed until the end of the school year. I can't leave my Year 12 students floundering with a new teacher. That wouldn't be fair.'

‘No, of course not. Do me a favour: ask Calum if he'll oversee the renovations, especially the chef's kitchen.'

‘Ask him yourself. Do it now, it's not too late.'

‘I doubt whether he's talking to me.'

‘What a load of crap,' Sofie said, sounding frustrated. ‘He's so hot for you he's sizzling. And you're just as bad…or good,' she giggled. ‘You need his phone number?'

‘No…he's been calling and texting, I just have to stop behaving like an idiot and ring.' She told Sofie about finding a copy of the
Tumble Creek Gazette
in her mailbox, and the photo of Calum that fell out from between the pages. ‘I know it wasn't you, not your handwriting. And it's not Calum's.'

‘Ooh, that's heavy. Anyway, you need to deal with Calum direct about the renovations — and shit — and you know what shit I'm talking about.'

‘Okay I will. I have to apologise. There was something else in the paper. Bruce and Kathleen got married, it's not Calum's baby, it's Bruce's.'

‘Really?' Sofie said dryly. ‘I told you so.'

‘Thank you for reminding me what an idiot I've been,' Jennifer said, amused. ‘I'd better go. I'll see you soon, sis.' She blew a kiss into the receiver.

‘Can't wait!' Just before hanging up, Sofie said, ‘Ring him — and for God's sake, for once in your life don't doubt, don't hedge your bets, just be honest about yourself.'

* * *

Jennifer took a deep breath, but it didn't help the flutter of nerves in her stomach. ‘You're being ridiculous,' she told herself. ‘For goodness sake, just bloody do it.' Heart thumping, she stared at her phone, dialled Calum's number and waited, listening to the ringing tones.

‘Calum's phone,' a young woman answered.

Jennifer's heart lurched. She hadn't expected that. ‘S-sorry to intrude, I was after Calum.'