and kitchenhand work? That it was all adventure and no stress? Fun, even? Joseph felt like he hadn’t had much fun in a long time. He noticed the background music just as she came over to him again. ‘They’re playing your song, I hear.’ ‘My song?’ ‘Enya.’ She coloured. He was right. Greg had put the Enya CD on some sort of automatic high rotation, telling everyone that came into the cafe that his new friend Niamh had sung on it. It was driving her batty. She opened her mouth, about to confess that she had no more sung on Enya’s album than flown to the moon, nor was her name actually Niamh, when it hit her. If she told Joe the whole story was nonsense and he got a job here, there was every chance Greg would hear the truth. And he might not find it quite so funny from someone other than Lainey. Which might mean she couldn’t keep working here. Which would mean she’d lose this opportunity to learn about running a cafe … Oh, hell. This was all getting very messy. Then she took herself in hand. Did it really matter if Greg or Joe thought she was a singer and sculptor called Niamh? Lainey was right, she was taking all of this far too seriously. It was just a bit of a laugh, after all. She was on holiday. She’d probably never see any of these people ever again.
She made her decision. ‘That’s right. This one was terrible for putting us all to sleep. I’m surprised all the diners in here aren’t nodding off as well.’
The front door opened and Greg walked in, his cafe manager Lisa hurrying along beside him. His face was like thunder.
Eva called him over. ‘Greg, this is Joe. Do you remember, we met him at the party the other night?’
Greg’s face was blank.
‘Joe, the English backpacker,’ Eva prompted. ‘Remember you said he should call in and you might be able to give him a job?’
Joseph interrupted. This really was going too far now. He had to set them straight. ‘Actually, if I could explain ‘
‘As it happens I do need a kitchenhand,’ Greg said. ‘Urgently. All right, Joe, you’re on.’
‘Really, thanks very much for the offer but ‘
‘Cash in hand, mate,’ Greg interrupted again. ‘Do you need the work or not?’
Joseph glanced across at Niamh. She was smiling at him. The idea of working here suddenly seemed very attractive. Fun, even. Hadn’t he just decided he wanted a different life? This could be the perfect trial run. He’d do it, he decided. Just for a day or two, before he went to South Australia.
Greg was still waiting on his answer. ‘Well?’
‘Yes. Yes, I do need the work. I’m actually running
very short of money.’ Good touch, Joseph, he thought, enjoying himself.
‘And you’re staying near here, are you? In St Kilda?’
Joseph thought of the big hotel on the Esplanade. He’d move down there today. ‘Just down the road,’ he said.
‘Right,’ Greg said. ‘We’ll see you this time tomorrow.’
The manager leant forward and whispered something. ‘It’s that bad?’ Greg said in a low voice. The manager nodded.
Greg looked at Joseph again. ‘You couldn’t start now by any chance?’
He glanced at Niamh again, who was giving him that beautiful smile. ‘Just lead me to that sink,’ Joseph said.
Two hours later he understood why there’d been the urgency.
The kitchen was frantically busy. The four different menus were a novel idea but they created a lot of work. He’d already washed hundreds of plates and peeled what seemed like a truckload of potatoes. He was now working side by side with Bill, the other kitchenhand, preparing salad ingredients, hoping it wasn’t blatantly obvious he’d not been this close to a whole vegetable for a long time. After months of living on Tesco prepackaged
meals, he’d been ready to believe vegetables came out of the ground ready-sliced.
‘So you know Greg’s latest squeeze, do you, Joe?’ Bill asked, not looking up as he deftly sliced cucumbers.
‘Squeeze? Who? Niamh, you mean? The Irishwoman at the reception desk?’
‘Yeah.’
So she was Greg’s girlfriend. He hadn’t been sure. ‘No, I don’t know her at all. Why?’
Bill shrugged. ‘Oh, one of the waitresses said you were talking to her a lot. We thought maybe you knew her from London. You know she’s some famous sculptor and singer from Ireland, apparently? According to Greg she sings with Enya. And she’s done some sculpture for that singer from U2. He keeps boasting about her.’
‘Yes, he told me all about her as well.’ Bill seemed very up-to-date, Joseph thought. Maybe he’d know the answer to something about Niamh that had been puzzling him. ‘Why is she working here, do you know?’
Bill was indeed well informed. ‘Oh, she’s not officially working. Greg said she’s been commissioned to come up with some urban sculpture or something. I don’t know the right term, I don’t understand art-speak. She’s here to get inspiration.’ He laughed. ‘Imagine a sculpture based on this place! A pile of dirty plates and four crappy menus.’
Joseph nodded. She was even more interesting than he’d thought.
Toward the end of his first shift, he had just piled a frying-pan precariously on the drainer when Eva came into the kitchen. To his surprise she picked up a tea-towel from beside him and started wiping up.
She noticed his reaction and laughed. ‘I can’t help it. My mother drummed it into me when I was a kid. She always used to say, if you see a dirty dish, wash and dry it and it’ll be done in the time you could have walked past it.’
‘Thank you. No help turned down.’
Standing this close beside him, she noticed he had a crease in his cheek when he smiled.
‘So which part of Ireland are you from?’ he asked her, looking across as he scrubbed at another saucepan.
She was about to say Dublin when she remembered he was asking Niamh the question, not Eva. ‘Galway,’ she said, after slightly too long a pause. ‘Have you ever been there?’ She’d taken to asking people that, in case she met someone who knew more about the place than she did.
He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry to say I’ve never been to Ireland. But let me guess, you live in a castle in Galway filled with your own artwork, hordes of adoring crowds outside?’
She noticed that spark of laughter in his eyes again. ‘No, not quite. Actually, I don’t live in a castle. Or even a house. I live in a caravan.’ Was that what she and Lainey had told Greg that night? She wished she’d written some of it down.
‘Do you really? In a holiday camp? Or is it horse drawn?’
‘Oh no, it’s stationary. It’s in a field, just outside the city. By the sea.’ She thought quickly. ‘I work with driftwood and stone and other objects I find on the beach, especially after a storm. That’s why I live where I do, to be close to all that wild coastline.’
He stopped joking. ‘You’re the real thing, Niamh, aren’t you?’
Uh oh. ‘The real thing?’ she asked cautiously.
‘A real artist. Living the simple life, away from the city scene. Staying close to your inspiration. Working the way you want to work.’
‘I guess I am,’ she said carefully.
‘Is it a hard life?’
‘Uhm, yes, it is sometimes.’ It probably would be, she thought.
‘But rewarding?’
‘I suppose so. I mean, yes, it is. Very.’
Joseph stopped washing up and turned right toward her. ‘And what are your sculptures like? Could you describe one of them to me?’
Those dark eyes of his were quite something, she thought. She paused before she answered. She had no
idea what her sculptures would be like. She’d only studied sculpture for a few months at art school. But then she pictured something in her mind’s eye. An elegant shape, like a wave caught in mid-movement. Or the long graceful neck of a seabird coming out of the water. She described it to him, knowing that she had his full interest. It felt good.
‘And you did a sculpture for U2, someone here was telling me?’
‘You’ve heard that too?’ The Enya story had been bad enough, but why had Lainey thrown in the U2 story as well?
He nodded. ‘You’re the talk of the kitchen.’
‘Am I?’ Oh hell, what could she do except keep making things up? ‘Well, yes, I did do one. For Bono’s garden. Just a little one,’ she said, desperately hoping they could change the subject soon. ‘Tiny, really.’ She moved her thumb and forefinger until there was only about an inch of space between them.
He looked across. ‘An inch-high sculpture?’
She nodded. They were both gazing at her hand. Joseph spoke first. ‘It must have been very delicate work, being so small.’
She just nodded again.
Then she was saved by the sound of the bell at reception. ‘Excuse me,’ she said thankfully.
Lainey’s answering machine was flashing when Eva arrived home from Four Quarters that night. She pressed the replay button. The caller sounded like a middle-aged woman.
‘Miss Byrne, Patricia here from Dr Reynolds’ surgery. We’ve had a cancellation and now have a vacancy for the operation we discussed at your last visit. It would be during one of our night clinics on the 14th. Can you please ring me back as soon as possible to confirm that you still want to go ahead with it.’
Eva was shocked. Lainey needed an operation? What was wrong with her? She certainly hadn’t mentioned anything. Should she ring her in Brisbane and let her know? It could be important. She dialled Lainey’s Brisbane number and waited anxiously.
Lainey sounded very bright. ‘Evie, what a lovely surprise. What’s up, can’t you find the sugar or
something? It’s in the cupboard to the left of the stove.’
‘No, I managed to find the sugar, thanks.’
Lainey kept talking. ‘And how is my little Rexie? I hope you’re still feeding him, are you?’
‘Of course.’ She’d been feeding him every day, choosing from the plentiful supply of cans labelled ‘Prestige Food for Prestige Kittens’. What was in them? Eva wondered. Lobster? Smoked salmon? Pheasant? Other rare delicacies?
As if on cue, Rex sauntered out from Lainey’s bedroom and headed in the direction of the kitchen. Eva glanced over at him, by his feeding bowl, licking something off his paws. Probably pureed white rhino, Eva thought. ‘He’s dining like a king,’ she added. ‘And how are you managing with the kitty litter tray?’
Eva’s stomach heaved slightly at the thought of the kitty litter tray. She was managing to deal with it. Just. But only if she wore two pairs of heavy-duty kitchen gloves and a scarf over her mouth and nose, to ward off even the faintest suggestion of unpleasant cat toilet odour. She’d even contemplated wearing Lainey’s swimming goggles. ‘Just fine,’ she lied. ‘But Lainey, the reason I’m ringing is you’ve just had a message on your machine. From Dr. Reynolds’ surgery. The woman said they have had a sudden cancellation and you could have your operation on the night of the
14th. And honestly, don’t worry, you don’t have to explain it to me if you don’t want to …’ Lainey’s roar of laughter stopped her midsentence. ‘It’s not for me, you eejit. It’s for Rex. Dr. Reynolds is a vet. I really didn’t expect that appointment with the vet to come up until I was back. Evie, I know this is a lot to ask, but would you be able to take him?’ ‘Take him? Actually pick him up and carry him somewhere?’ ‘You’ll have to drive, actually. The vet’s about ten minutes away. But don’t worry, I’ve got one of those proper cat carrying baskets. It’s a bit old but it’s fine. You’ll just need to coax him into that and the vet will do the rest.’ ‘What will be occurring,’ Eva chose her words carefully, ‘at this said visit?’ Lainey whispered into the phone. ‘He’s being neutered.’ ‘Neutered? Oh Rex, did you hear that? Do you know what the word neutered means? Do you know what your cruel and heartless owner has got planned for you? Oh Lainey, you daughter of Satan.’ ‘Eva, don’t be awful. Poor little kitten, but I’ve no choice, it’s the best thing to do for an indoor cat. You will take him, won’t you?’ Rex looked at Eva. Eva looked at Rex. ‘Eva?’
She relented. ‘Of course I’ll take him. I’ll ring the vet right now.’ ‘Thanks a million, Evie, I owe you one. The number’s on a card on the fridge. Now, how is your sightseeing going? I did tell you about the fashion clearance shops down the road, didn’t I? And that lovely cafe with the cheese room just down from there? And which tram to get if you want to go into town?’ Eva laughed. ‘Yes, Lainey. You told me all of it.’ ‘Oh good. See, born to be a tourist guide. Listen, I’d better go. Talk to you later. Thanks again about the vet. And give Rex a pat from me, won’t you?’ ‘Of course.’ What with? A glove on the end of a long stick? Hanging up, Eva noticed Rex, just a few metres away, sitting watching her. He almost looked like he had a half-smile on his little kitten face. She laughed, despite herself. ‘How are you coping with Lainey, Rex? At least I knew what to expect when I came to visit her. You poor thing, you wouldn’t have had any idea, would you? Taken from your mother at such an early age, given a weird name like Tyrannosaurus Rex. Treated like a child, not an animal. What else is she planning for you, Rexie? School? Piano lessons? Cat scouts?’ Rex just flicked up his tail and sauntered back into the kitchen. As she watched, he put one back leg up behind his head and started licking his She grimaced. ‘Rex, please. If you don’t get some
manners I’m telling the vet you don’t need any anaesthetic’
Later that night, Eva was in bed fast asleep when something woke her, all of a sudden. She looked at the clock. Three a.m. She turned on the bedside lamp and jumped in fright. Rex was curled up asleep at the end of her bed. He must have crept out of his basket in the middle of the night, hopping up on her bed and curling himself around her feet. She’d never had a hot water bottle with four legs and a tail before. She sat up quickly now, creating a ripple with the quilt that sent the kitten sliding gently onto the floor. He just yawned, then sauntered out of the room, his tail flicking. She listened again. Surely it hadn’t been Rex’s cat snores that had woken her? No, it was a voice coming from the living room. Someone, a young woman, was sobbing. Eva sat still, rigid with fear as the tearful voice floated down the hallway. In her half-awake state, she started to think the worst. Was the apartment haunted? Lainey certainly hadn’t mentioned it… Then Eva realised that the voice was Meg’s. And it was coming from the answering machine. She leapt out of bed in a bound and had just started running down the hallway when she stopped and gave a sudden scream. Rex had been lying in wait