The Boy in the Olive Grove (18 page)

My car — Hadleigh’s car — was the only one left at the factory. Kent had shut the caravan up and gone home. Nick pulled to a stop and, before I could get the door open, he said, ‘Have a good year, Bess. You’ve earned it. And don’t let that mother of yours destroy you.’ He flicked my cheek with a finger. ‘That was quite an afternoon. You okay? Truthfully?’

I turned to face him. ‘Yes, I’m okay. It was good to hear your story. Nice to know you’ve got a pet spook too. Have a good life, Nick. That old guy wouldn’t be disappointed in you now.’

I got out of that car before my face could give me away. I wasn’t okay, I was a mess. He should be with me, not with Lulu.

I DIDN’T GO
straight home. I drove out into the country, found a quiet road off the main highway, put my head down on the steering wheel and cried my eyes sore.

A car drove past, slowing down to check me out. I lifted my head, waved and stretched a smile across my face. It kept going. According to the rear-view mirror I was a splodgy, splotchy mess. I couldn’t go home with swollen eyes and a red nose, and I didn’t want Dad to start asking probing questions either. I took myself back to the factory where I did damage control on my face. Then I sat for ages, looking at nothing, thinking about as little as possible.

Afterwards I realised I’d put myself into a
semitrance
state. It could have been that, or it could have been connecting with Nick — whichever one, the result was that I saw the olive grove boy again. He was running, arms outstretched, towards a girl who ran towards him. They met and his arms held her. She lifted her head, smiling at him, and they kissed. I recognised them both. As I’d hoped all along, my olive grove boy was Nick, and his sweetheart was me. Their happiness shone around them. I felt it as I was now: a heartsore mess in the twenty-first century.

But the world can’t be shut out for ever. My phone pinged the arrival of a text. It was from Dad wanting to know if I’d heard from Maurice. I got back in the car. I’d tell him in person and I’d stay there until my eyes came back to normal. I so did not need comments from Mum about my state of mind.

Dad leapt up from his armchair as soon as he saw me. ‘Tell me! You’ve heard from Maurice?’

‘Three dining tables and a bookcase. Three other places showed interest. Ring the men, Dad. They’d like to hear it from you.’

He settled back down in his chair. ‘Tell them tomorrow, Bess. At morning tea. That’s the way I always do it.’

My shaky hold on self-control snapped. ‘Ring them now. They deserve to know. Jason included. We’re all in this together. They’ve been fantastic — coming up with ideas. Working as a team. You bloody ring them and tell them. Right bloody now.’ I burst into tears again.

Dad stared at me, his mouth open and his face scrunched up with worry. Iris swept into the room. She seized me by the arm. ‘You’re coming with me. Charlie will ring the men
immediately
.’ She towed me into the kitchen and shut the door on him. ‘Not a word,’ she ordered. ‘Not yet. You’ll have some soup, then after that, we talk.’

I hadn’t the will to argue even if I’d wanted to. Iris put the food in front of me, then looked at me hard. ‘You’ve got your heart broken?’ she asked.

‘Yeah. Smashed to a pulp.’ I didn’t even bother asking her how she’d worked it out. She was a witch, pure and simple.

‘Explain. From the beginning.’

So I told her about my olive grove boy, about how I’d only just seen the girl, and that I recognised them as being Nick and me. ‘He’s got a girlfriend. Lulu. She was with him the day Dad went to hospital. She’s gorgeous. But he kissed me today and I know we should be together. We belong together. He was sorry he’d done it. He didn’t talk to me all the way home.’

Iris was frowning at the wall, her thinking face on, then she said, ‘Listen, Bess, for a start you’re very young. Yes, Nick might be the lost love from long ago and it might be that you eventually get together in this life too. But if he doesn’t come back to you, if he marries Lulu or some other girl, then it’s up to you whether or not you let that wreck your life.’

‘But we belong together! How can I love somebody else?’ She didn’t understand, she just had no idea.

‘Well,’ said my stepmother, ‘it’s your choice. Go round being miserable, or go out and live your life. Expect to find somebody else and, for the love of Eros, don’t panic if you haven’t met him by your twentieth birthday.’

I didn’t want her astringent advice. I wanted sympathy. I wanted her to mourn with me for a love I couldn’t have.

‘And put your bottom lip back where it belongs.’ That surprised a laugh out of me. ‘Look, love, tragic heroines are all very well in opera but they get very tedious in real life. And think about it: if we have truly lived many times before, there must be others you’ve loved. You might well miss one of them if you’re set on Nick being the one and only.’

‘Yeah. I guess.’

‘Good girl. Let’s go and smile at Charlie. He’s not good with tears.’

No, he wasn’t. He had worry written all over his face.

‘Sorry, Dad,’ I said, and kissed his cheek. ‘I’m okay now. Just a bit of a blip.’

‘Your mother?’

‘She doesn’t get any easier.’ I was quite happy to make her the villain — and I couldn’t face telling him the truth.

‘Then you’d better come and live here, my girl. Can’t have you getting upset like this.’

‘Thanks, Dad. I think I’ll be okay, but if I’m not I’ll be hammering on your door. I promise.’

‘Well, make sure you do. By the way, you were right about letting the men know about the orders. They’re tickled pink. Every man jack of them. That Jason, I could tell he was proud as punch I’d rung him.’

‘That’s great, Dad. They’ll be pleased when you’re back.’

He dropped his eyes to his feet and studied them very hard. ‘Um, been thinking. Might change a few things when I’m back on deck. More discussions. Ask their opinions. Give them more responsibility.’

‘Good idea, Dad.’ Dear god I was tired.

‘Home time for you, Bess,’ Iris said. ‘Pop in
tomorrow
after work if you feel like it. You know you’re always welcome.’

 

I ARRIVED HOME
to the usual storm from Mum.

‘Where have you been? Why didn’t you ring me?’

All I could do was stand there while she ranted. She had a point. I hadn’t let her know I wouldn’t be home for dinner. But why was it always my fault?

‘You could have rung
me
,’ I shouted. ‘Why didn’t you ring me?’ I walked off and shut myself in my room. Again.

A whole year of this! I sank onto the bed with my laptop. I’d escape into the world of friends — a world whose rules I understood.

All my intentions to post a chatty, cheerful update about tennis and a busy factory vanished as up popped a message from Hadleigh. A long message — for him. I stared at it, scared to start reading.

Oh, get a grip. Read it and go to bed.

It was to all of us.

I read it again and concluded that he’d forgiven me, because the message to Mum was complete fiction designed to soften her.

Well, she’d have to wait. There was no way I was going to go and show her the message tonight. She didn’t bloody deserve it.

I WOKE WITH THE MEMORY
of Nick’s kiss and a brief, fleeting taste of bliss before reality intruded. He might have loved me once, long ago in a different world. But not now, not in this one. I hauled myself out of bed, preparing to face the day. The men would be happy. That was good. Mum might be happy too, now that Hadleigh had written.

Well, if she was, she didn’t show it. She might have been pleased, or she might have been enraged that
That Woman
was mentioned before she was. I didn’t know. She read her elusive son’s message, then went out to the garden without speaking to me.

I called in to show Dad the message on the way to work. He got all sad and old again just from reading it. ‘Tell him he doesn’t need to worry. I get it now that he’s not a wood man.’

‘It’s not the end of the world, Charlie,’ Iris said.

Dad sighed. ‘It’s just that I can’t see the point of keeping it all going if there’s nobody to pass it on to.’

‘Talk to Eddy,’ I said. ‘He’d take over like a shot if you asked him to.’

That straightened Dad’s backbone. ‘Absolutely not. He’s far too young.’

‘Just like Bess is,’ Iris remarked. ‘And isn’t he older than Hadleigh?’

‘That’s …’ He thumped the table with a fist. ‘He doesn’t know the first thing about business.’

‘Neither did Bess,’ said my valiant stepmother. ‘But she’s doing fine learning on the job.’

‘Dad, Eddy’s keen. He’s a designer and a craftsman. He’ll soak up all the knowledge you can throw at him. Talk to him. You’ll be surprised.’

Dad said nothing. Iris and I looked at each other.
Progress
?
Apparently, because he sighed again, then said, ‘I’ll talk to him. Sound him out. But that’s all I’m promising. You ask him to come and see me, Bess. Tell him to knock off early and come over today.’

‘Sure,’ I said. ‘I’ll tell him why too. And I’ll tell the men.’

‘No! You’ll do no such thing!’

‘Dad, I do things differently from you. The men appreciate being told what’s going on. They’ll have to be okay with Eddy eventually being their boss.’ I crouched down in front of his chair so that we were more eye to eye. ‘I reckon it’s only fair to suss out if they like the idea. You never know, one of them might be nursing a secret ambition.’

Dad just went
humph
, so I removed myself.

Iris came with me to the car. ‘How’s the heart this morning? The truth, please.’

‘Bruised but functioning.’

‘It’ll heal quicker if you stay in the here and now.’

I drove my sorry self to the factory. It’d be useful if there was stuff for me to do, something that would take immense concentration. Instead, there was Clint, reminding me of his son.

‘Did that boy of mine treat you right, Bess?’ he asked.

Rub it in, why don’t you?

I scrabbled around in my bag, ostensibly hunting for my phone. ‘Yes, of course he did.’ I managed to look up and smile. ‘He’s very different these days from when he was a kid.’

Clint snorted. ‘Lucky for him.’ He shook his head. ‘The girls seem to fall all over him. Can’t for the life of me work out why. He doesn’t take a blind bit of notice of any of them. Except for that Lulu.’

‘Don’t you like her? She was very kind to me the day Dad went to hospital.’
Tell me more. Please.

He shrugged. ‘She’s okay. Not the sort I’d have thought he’d go for.’

But that was the end of the conversation. I didn’t find it comforting.

 

THE WEEK ROLLED ON
slowly towards Christmas Day. Dad came in on Friday as planned to talk to Jason.

‘He’s shaping up well,’ he told me later. ‘I’m happy to put him on the payroll.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Uh, you did well there, Bess. Not a lad I would have given a second look to.’

It warmed me to hear him say that, but it was the men who’d turned Jason around. My usefulness at the factory was pretty much over. They wouldn’t need me to be at the place much after the Christmas break, and the matter of how to entertain my
friendless
, loveless self until school started pressed on my sore heart.

It helped that I could play tennis both days in the weekend. I chatted to Charlotte, Maddy and Clodagh via Skype, and didn’t speak of Nick or peasant boys in olive groves.

I kept well away from Nick and Lulu’s Facebook pages, although I couldn’t resist checking to see if there were pics of Nico Hamilton. Oh yes. Lots of them, and every one dripping with sex appeal. Lulu featured in far too many of them.

The Peace rose arrived. I wrapped it in pretty paper and wrote Mum an insincere message on a card. I bought Dad a book of cartoons, and for Iris I found a book on ancient witchcraft.

For once, Christmas Day dawned beautifully sunny. For form’s sake, I asked Mum if she would like me to help her with the meal. She simply raised cool eyebrows. I took that as a negative, and fled to the tennis club on the off-chance some other no-
friends-sad
-sack would be there looking for a game.

Harriet’s non-friend Sol turned up after I’d been bashing the ball at the practice board for about five minutes. He was keen for a game, but he mucked around with the scoring so much it was impossible to keep track. I didn’t care. It was such a relief to laugh.

‘Why aren’t you at home celebrating with the parents, the siblings, the in-laws, the aunts, the great uncles, the grandparents and the seven nieces all under the age of five?’ he asked as we flopped down on the veranda after the game.

‘Escaping from my mother. You?’

‘Escaping from the rellies outlined above.’

‘
Seven
nieces?’

‘And all under five.’ He looked gloomy. ‘You’ve no idea how loud they are. How energetic. And the little ones howl and stink and throw up on you.’

‘Sounds pretty good to me,’ I said. ‘My mother hasn’t spoken to me since Tuesday except to yell at me.’

That wiped the lazy expression off his face, but he didn’t ask for details. No, what he asked was, ‘You got a boyfriend?’

‘Nope. You offering?’

‘Might be. Wanna go out?’

‘Gee, what a romantic!’ I was going to refuse, but then I thought
why not?
‘Okay. Sure. That’d work.’

‘You’re a glass-half-full kind of girl. I like it.’

And he was so laid-back it’s a wonder he didn’t walk with his feet in the air, but he was funny and I desperately needed a friend. We stayed chatting till it was impossible to delay the delights of Christmas dinner any longer.

So that was how I found myself with a boyfriend before midday on Christmas Day.

‘You’ve been playing tennis?’ Mum asked as I came in.

Was this a thaw? ‘Yes. Had a hit with a guy I’ll be at school with next year. His name’s Sol. Solomon.’

‘Solomon Drummond?’ Mum asked.

‘Might be. Yeah, I think that’s it.’

I do believe my mother actually smiled. Her lips certainly stretched sideways for a millimetre on each side. ‘I know the family. You could do worse than cultivate young Solomon.’

For crying out loud! I’d done something she approved of? ‘We’re going to a concert at New Year.’

That got me a regal nod, though it struck me that a single meeting with Sol could well blast her idea of a suitable suitor right out of sight.

‘You’ll be needing clothes for school, Bess,’ she continued. ‘The sales will be on after Christmas. You can take my credit card to get what you need. Now, come and eat. Dinner’s ready.’

She began slicing the meat. ‘Ask Solomon to go shopping with you. He’ll know what’s appropriate school clothing. Kindly remember you’re my daughter. I don’t want you running around town in tattered jeans. Or shorts. Absolutely no singlets.’

‘Sure, Mum. I’ll ask Harriet to come with me too.’

The meal, as always, was delicious even if it was far too heavy for the summery day — roast beef and Yorkshire pudding with gravy so full of flavour that my toes curled.

‘Man, that has to have been the best meal ever,’ I said. I meant it, but I was keen to maintain the unaccustomed harmony of the day too.

She raised her eyebrows. ‘It’s not good manners to exaggerate, Bess.’

Other than that, the meal passed without me putting my foot into any hidden holes. I cleared up, washed up and stacked the dishwasher. At two on the dot we sat down to do the presents.

As expected, she didn’t like my peace offering. ‘You know I never grow roses. Please change it for an azalea or a daphne.’

‘I’m sorry you don’t like it, Mum.’ And bugger exchanging it — I’d give it to Wally Earl, if I could find out where he lived.

My mother turned her mouth down and, with great ceremony, handed me my present. As always, it was precision-wrapped in green and gold paper. What was different was the shape. It was the size of a shoebox, but there was no way she’d have bought me shoes. If there was jewellery in there … oh my god, don’t say she’d bought me a tiara! No!

‘Be careful. It’s fragile.’

Not a tiara then. I pulled off the paper. The box inside was plain white cardboard. I extracted layers of tissue paper and bubble wrap then stared, dumbfounded, at what she’d given me. I was looking at a china ornament — longer than my hand and with six old-fashioned women standing around a dude on a throne, for the love of heaven.

‘What …?’

‘It’s valuable,’ Mum said. ‘You can start a collection. Figurines are very collectable.’

I couldn’t think of a thing to say — not anything tactful at any rate.

She lifted it from the box. ‘This is Henry the Eighth and his six wives. A lovely piece.’

I stared at it and said the first thing that came into my head. ‘Shouldn’t a couple of them be without their heads?’

Oops, not funny apparently.

‘You have no taste, Bess. And no business acumen either. Pieces like this increase in value every year.’

Any thaw was freezing solid again. But hell on earth, I had to stop this idea before I got swamped with dust-catching collectables.

‘Mum, neither of us has hit the mark with our presents this year. I appreciate the thought, I really do, but this sort of stuff just isn’t me.’

She rose to her feet, took Henry and his wives from me, and sailed from the room. I suspected she wouldn’t speak to me for the rest of the year.

Collectable figurines! I couldn’t wait to tell Dad and Iris.

 

DAD GREETED ME
with his usual anxious expression. ‘How’s the day been, love?’

I kissed him. ‘Merry Christmas, Dad. Fair to middling so far. You’ll never guess what Mum bought me. Gotta hand it to her, she’s excelled herself this time.’

They had presents for me too. Dad gave me a jewellery box he’d made himself. It had a hinged lid, compartments and tiny drawers. It was way too stunning to contaminate it with any of the stuff Mum had bestowed on me over the years. Iris’s present was an amethyst ring, a narrow circlet set with five tiny stones. I sat gazing at it, too choked up to speak.

‘You can change it if you don’t like it.’

‘It’s beautiful.’ My voice was all husky. ‘But I won’t be keeping it in my jewellery box.’ I slid it on my little finger. It fitted perfectly. ‘Only a witch could guess the right size.’ I jumped up and hugged her, then Dad. ‘You two are the best.’

Dad cleared his throat. ‘You’re not so bad yourself, my girl. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d better get myself organised out there on the barbecue.’

‘We’re having a bunch of friends over,’ Iris said, watching him leave. ‘Come and chat while I make salads. I’m glad you like the ring, love. Amethysts are healing. They’ll be good for you.’

The friends arrived. There was lots of talk, lots of laughing, and Dad looked cheerful and optimistic. He’d looked like that ever since Eddy had told him he’d be bloody proud to take over the factory when Dad wanted to retire, which he and the men all hoped wouldn’t be for a while yet.

I was the only person present under the age of fifty. I handed around nibbles, collected dirty plates, stacked the dishwasher and tried not to think about Nick and Lulu on a beach in Queensland.