Eyes gritty from lack of sleep and unshed tears, Callie slumped at her kitchen table the next morning and tried to focus on the form in front of her. Hadn’t she already given a different government department this exact information about her business? Couldn’t they at least talk to one another? Normally she loved filling out forms. There was something soothing and orderly about entering figures into the little boxes.
But not today. Today her mind kept rehashing the conversation she’d heard between Julie and Sharon. Her memory was determined to regurgitate every horrible detail of her marriage breakup.
Today paperwork was beyond her. At least this time things hadn’t progressed far enough with Nathan to need filling out forms to sever their relationship.
She’d thought she’d go mad from the paperwork involved in splitting up her marriage. Cancelling joint bank accounts, joint memberships, bills in both names. And of course it had been left up to her to do the majority of it. Tony was too busy playing house with Sharon to worry about the destruction he’d left behind. It was alright for him—he could walk away. So many forms and phone calls. The worst of it had been appearing in town to shut down bank accounts. It had been so hard to hold her head high while the whispers flew around her. He left her, you know. It’s been going on for years. We thought she knew—everyone else did. Not that she’d actually heard the rumours directly, but she’d known what they’d say.
Living in a small town had its downside when everyone knew everyone else’s business, and regarded it as their right to insert their own two cents’ worth about the situation.
Minerva jumped up onto the table and lay down on the government forms, spreading herself to cover as much surface area as she could. At least that gave Callie an excuse not to finish filling them out.
Couldn’t the cat have also laid on the pile of mail she hadn’t had a chance to open? That’s what she got for burning the candle at both ends—trying to run a business and have a love life. She should have listened to herself—her head was obviously more sensible than her hormones.
Well, she didn’t have to worry about the love life any more.
She picked up the top envelope, slit it open and pulled out the official looking letter inside. The letterhead was from her landlord’s company. She flicked her eyes across the letter, her hand already hovering over the to-be-filed pile. Except the words non-payment caught her eye.
Non-payment? She had a direct deposit set up to pay her rent every week. She read it more closely. Non-payment of rent for the last period, warning, immediate payment, etc, etc. Legal jargon galore, but the gist of it was, they thought she’d missed a rent payment.
Nausea swirled in her gut as she hurried to her computer. It wasn’t possible. Was it? What had gone wrong? Hands shaking, she typed in her user code and password for her internet banking. What must the company think of her? She wasn’t the type to skip payments of anything. She was religious in making sure she paid her debts.
User code invalid. What? Had her accounts been closed down? Was Mercury in retrograde or whatever the hell astrologers blamed on everything going wrong?
She forced herself to take a deep breath and check what she’d typed. Oh. She’d transposed two digits. Fingers still shaking, she typed it again and held her breath as she hit Logon.
The verification process seemed to take forever but eventually her accounts came up. Her breath gusted from her lungs in relief. At least that was one thing that hadn’t gone wrong. But the balance on her business account should be way higher than that.
Opening up the transactions, she ran her eyes down to when her rent should have come out. Dishonour fee. Not enough funds. Why? There should have been. She’d only reconciled her accounts last week and there’d been enough then.
A couple of transactions earlier she found her answer. Payment for one of her fabric orders had somehow come out three times. No wonder her balance was so low. She’d be lucky if the rent was the only subsequent payment to bounce. She had to get money back in that account ASAP.
And dammit, nothing would be open on Sunday. She’d have to ring them first thing tomorrow morning. In the meantime she’d have to transfer money from her personal account—which would leave that account dangerously empty too.
She needed income, and soon.
A sudden gust of wind spattered a few raindrops on the window. From her vantage point, the sky was a dull overcast grey. She really should have stayed in bed this morning. Maybe it would be easier to bury herself under the covers and not come out for weeks.
She fought against the urge. That was the last thing she could afford to do, to give in to the depression that had sucked her into its depths when her marriage split up.
It had taken her completely by surprise the day Tony had left her. At the end of the night as the community charity ball wound down, she’d gone looking for him. His ute wasn’t in the carpark and there was no sign of him. In the end, she’d caught a lift home with a neighbour. As soon as she’d walked in the door, something felt off. Her first thought was that they’d been robbed. DVDs missing from the cabinet, leaving gaps in the neatly organised racks. A print missing from the wall. Following her gut feeling, she’d gone to their bedroom and opened the wardrobe. All his clothes were missing—the empty space mirroring the deepening chasm in her heart.
Then she’d seen the note carelessly flung on the bed. Ripped out of a notebook, the edge all tattered.
I’m leaving. Sharon and I are moving away. Tony.
The rage had hit first. She hadn’t really known what she was doing when she’d piled anything he’d left behind on the front lawn and soaked it in kerosene. It was a wonder she hadn’t caught herself on fire when she’d thrown the lit match on the pile.
She’d barely even noticed the fire brigade turning up to put out the fire, or her son coming home from his party and taking care of her.
Then the darkness had hit. There were days she couldn’t drag herself out of bed, and Patrick had had to fend for himself. Other days she dragged herself through the motions of living. It took weeks—and much support from her family—before she could function again.
There was still a hard knot of guilt in her chest when she thought of it. Guilt that her son had to look after her when she should have been there for him. Even though he hadn’t been overly close to his father, it must have still hurt having him walk away without an explanation. And then to have his mother unable to support him as well would have been a double blow. Luckily it seemed to have had the effect of pulling them closer together. She thanked her lucky stars every day for her amazing son.
She had been glad Sharon and Tony had moved far out of town. Knowing they were still in the same town would have made her even more of a hermit. As it was, for some time after, she thought she saw them in every street, turning into stores, or saw their car at every intersection. It never was them, but it played on her mind, robbing her of any peace.
They were both equally to blame, Sharon and Tony. If only Callie hadn’t given him a second chance all those years ago. Three years before Patrick had been born, she’d been reeling from a miscarriage when she’d found a woman’s phone number in his jacket pocket. He’d laughed it off, made some excuse, convinced her he’d done nothing wrong. She’d never quite known whether that was the truth or not.
And now her worst nightmare had come true. Sharon was back and was with Nathan. And he was obviously happy about it.
She’d refused to pick up her phone whenever he’d rung yesterday. It was bad enough hearing the news from Sharon. Hearing it from Nathan would tip her over the edge.
She slammed her pen down on the table, earning a glare from Minerva. Well if she couldn’t do anything about her personal life, she was going to pour her energies into making her store the best darn business she could. She wasn’t going to sit around and let another man destroy her self-esteem.
Dawn had provided her with a list of craftsmen from the Commune of the Golden Light community, on the way out to Woodburn. She passed the entrance way every time she drove out to visit her parents. The wind turbines in the fenced-off paddock just off the main road had always intrigued her. Apparently the commune members lived in yurts and mud-brick houses but they couldn’t be seen from the road. It sounded like a peaceful community—bartering, solar power, growing their own food. Mornings began with classes of yoga and tai chi. From what Dawn had said, they practised all sorts of alternative beliefs— from Wiccan to Confucianism.
She’d give Dawn a call to check that it was okay to visit today. If it was, she’d go out and chat to the artists and craftsmen about the possibility of them selling their goods through her store. She was happy to accept either a commission or barter of her goods. And then she’d continue out to Woodburn and spend the afternoon with her parents. They’d likely have their combustion fire going to thaw her out after being in the cold air and give her a sense of warmth and security.
***
As she pulled up outside her parents’ house later that day, she saw her brother’s car parked in the driveway. Her spirits rose at the thought of seeing either her brother or sister-in-law, or both. She dashed across from her car to the front step and opened the door.
Stepping inside always took her straight back to her teenage years. It was a combination of the lingering smell of her dad’s hair cream, the roll-your-own cigarettes he’d given up decades before, and the scent of potpourri, underlaid with a whiff of wet dog.
Heavy footsteps pounded down the wooden floors in the hallway.
‘Told you it was Callie.’ Calling out behind him, her big brother greeted her with a bear hug. ‘How are you?’
She sidestepped the question. She didn’t want to think about herself right now. ‘Good to see you home. When’s your next trip?’
‘I go away again next week for a three-week haul. Up north with a load of freight.’
Callie couldn’t think of anything worse than being a long-haul truck driver, but Josh loved it. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for her sister-in-law though, who was practically a single mum during those times. ‘Is Linh here?’
‘Yep, we’re all out in the kitchen. Come on through.’
‘Before we go through, while I’ve got you here.’ She peered down the hall to make sure her parents weren’t in earshot. ‘Did Mum tell you about Dad?’
Her brother shook his head, frowning. ‘What about him?’
‘His memory’s going a bit funny. He keeps forgetting things and we had this scary incident at the shop the other day.’ She quickly told him how he’d seemed confused and lost.
‘Has Mum dragged him in to see the doctor yet?’
‘You know what he’s like—stubborn as a mule. He’ll never admit that anything’s wrong. But I’m trying to persuade her.’
‘I’ll keep an eye on him when I’m home.’
‘Keep an eye on who?’ Linh hugged Callie, then slipped her arm around Josh. Callie’s heart panged at the obvious affection between them. Linh was so petite beside her tall, husky husband and he treated her like she was made of porcelain. Emotionally she was one of the strongest people Callie knew.
‘Dad. Have you noticed he’s having trouble with his memory?’
Her sister-in-law bent her head closer to Callie’s. ‘He has been getting the names of the kids confused lately.’ She laughed. ‘But then I often have to go through a roll-call—including the dog’s name—before I get the right person. It comes from being too busy. Maybe Dad’s stressed about something.’
‘Well, are you going to bring her in or stand in the hallway all day?’ They sprang apart and tried to look innocent as the man in question shuffled towards them.
Luckily he was half deaf and wouldn’t have heard them talking about him.
‘Hi, Dad.’ Callie hugged him, breathing in his unique scent. She pushed back the tears from her eyes and mouthed Later to Josh and Linh. Despite his physical frailty, his mind seemed fine as he led the way down the hall. Please let it have been a once-off. He’d been so strong and active all his life, it would be difficult for them all but especially him if he were to lose his faculties.
A blast of warm air from the stove hit her when they walked into the kitchen. She walked over and hugged her mum who was standing at the stove, stirring a pot of soup. ‘That smells delicious. Definitely soup weather.’
‘Stay for tea if you like. There’s plenty. Do you want a cuppa?’ Without even waiting for an answer, she picked up the kettle and moved to the sink to fill it.
‘Who else is having one?’ Callie glanced over at her family milling around the kitchen and counted nods and raised hands. She reached into the overhead cupboard for the mugs and set them on the table.
Josh reached for the biscuit tin and tipped a handful onto a plate. He stuffed an Anzac biscuit in his mouth. He’d always had a sweet tooth. ‘How’s the shop going?’
That clawing sensation started back up in Callie’s stomach at the thought of her bank account. ‘Not so good. It really was a stupid idea opening a shop while the town is in such turmoil.’
‘You’ll pull it off, Callie. You always do.’
She grimaced. ‘From your lips to God’s ears, as Grandma Mary used to say. In the meantime, if you know anyone who’s looking to rent my spare room, let me know. I think it’s come to that to have some cash coming in rather than flying out the door.’
Her mother gave her a one-armed hug. ‘But you’ll hate that. You love your own space.’
The kettle boiled and Callie poured the water into the teapot. ‘Don’t think I haven’t thought of that. But I don’t have a lot of options at the moment.’ Even the thought of having someone else in her personal space made her anxious. She’d carved out her own routines and liked the peace and quiet of her house. No matter how quiet and inoffensive they were, having someone else around would make her feel like she had to entertain, like she had to be on her best behaviour. But it was the only thing she could think of to bring in regular cash.
Linh looked thoughtful. ‘I’ll ask around. I may have someone who might be interested.’
‘Thanks. I’d appreciate that.’ Well, her bank balance would anyway.
Grandma Mary’s knitted black and red tea cosy had been used to keep the teapot warm for as long as Callie could remember. She’d patched up a few holes over the years and still felt the touch of nostalgia when she used it. After placing the pot on the wooden trivet in the middle of the table, she sat down in the chair that was still considered hers.
‘I would’ve thought having someone in the house would cramp your style.’ Her brother smirked at her from across the table.
Oh no. What was he up to? She knew that smirk. Knew that she wouldn’t like whatever came out of his mouth next. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘A little birdie told me you and Nathan have been seeing a lot of each other this week.’ He ignored the cease-and-desist-or-you’re-dead look she shot him. ‘Quite a lot of each other if the rumours are true.’
Her heart sank. What were they saying, especially now Sharon was back in town? Was she the laughing stock of Mindalby again? She pleated the edge of the cotton tablecloth in her fingers.
‘That’s wonderful, sweetheart.’ Her mother’s face beamed. ‘I’m so happy you’re finally together.’
What felt worse—breaking her mother’s heart or having her own broken? ‘Were. We were together. Sharon’s back in town and they’ve apparently picked back up.’
Josh snorted. ‘Really? I can’t see him getting back with that bit—’ he glanced at his mother and hastily amended his choice of words, ‘—that witch again if you put a gun to his head. He was gutted when she left and took the girls.’
‘Well, he is. I overheard Sharon telling Julie today.’ Willing her hands to stop shaking, she poured the tea.
‘Ha. I wouldn’t believe a word she said. And I’m honestly surprised you did.’ Josh picked up another biscuit and waved it in the air. ‘Surely you remember what Sharon was like at school? Always wanting what you had?’
‘What do you mean?’
Her mother nodded. ‘Josh is right, love. She was always terribly jealous of you.’ She tutted. ‘I blame her father. Swanning around the town like he owned it, when that car yard of his was barely scraping by. Sharon grew up thinking the world owed her a favour. But for some reason she always targeted you.’
‘Really?’
‘The top Mum and Dad bought you for your birthday—remember she asked to borrow it and you never got it back? The hula hoop you bought, and then she bought one exactly the same. She copied the way you decorated your school backpack.’ Josh held up his hand and ticked the points off on his fingers. ‘She always creeped me out. It was like she was trying to be you.’
He tossed an uneasy glance at his wife, then back at Callie. ‘Did I tell you she tried to crack onto me at one stage? You must’ve been in Year Twelve or thereabouts and she, ah, accosted me one night at the Blue Light disco.’
‘Well I hope you didn’t take her up on it.’ Her mother frowned at him.
‘Mum! Of course not. Anyway, I wouldn’t trust her as far as I could throw her.’
***
Entering his backyard workshop on Sunday afternoon, Nathan clicked on the overhead lights and waited for them to flicker into life. If he planned to hold the first meeting of the Men’s Shed, he’d better get to work creating order from the chaos of his garage. Along both sides of the triple garage his benches were presently covered in tools, rather than hanging from the white pegboard lining the walls where they should be. All it should need was putting everything back into its correct place and sweeping off the concrete floors. He’d see if he could borrow a stack of chairs from the community hall, and ask the CWA if they’d provide their urn. If they wanted to throw in cakes and slices, well, that would be fine by him too.
If only it was that easy to create order from the chaos of his life. Callie had obviously found out about Sharon before he could tell her. She was ignoring his phone calls and text messages. He’d dropped by her house to see her but it was all closed up with no sign of life. The shop was deserted too—he’d knocked on the door and called out like a lunatic but she was either ignoring him or she wasn’t there.
And now he had to escape to his shed because his ex-wife had taken over his house. Even though he’d given her the spare room, she had shoes spilling out into the hallway, jackets thrown over chairs in the kitchen and she had the television blaring with back-to-back talk shows where the panellists attacked each other with words and fists. He wasn’t sure if she was watching the same show on repeat or if there really were that many different variations of the I slept with my sister-in-law’s step-son rubbish.
It certainly wasn’t a Pay TV channel he’d stumbled across before but then he pretty much only watched the sports channels. He hadn’t even been able to kick back and watch his beloved St George Illawarra Dragons play last night in the comfort of his home. He’d had to go down to the Ace in the Hole and listen to Max the barman rib him about the little lady letting him out from under the thumb to watch the game. What Max didn’t understand was that he would have gladly not watched the game to spend the night with Callie. That’s how badly he had it.
When he turned on the radio on one end of the workbench, the sounds of eighties pub rock blasted out. The song took him back to the days of his carpentry apprenticeship, working on job sites with the radio thumping out the tunes, and the laughter and sledging of the older crew. If only he could go back to his teen days, when his greatest worry was whether he’d blow all his money at the takeaway shop or save up to buy the latest Springsteen record.
Just for a few minutes, he let himself pretend his life was worry-free. Belting out the chorus and playing along on his air guitar, he sorted and packed away the tools discarded in the middle of a previous job.
Pushed to the back of the shelf, he found a leather tool-roll full of his carving tools. His mind ping-ponged with conflicting emotions and memories as he stared down at the set. The pride he’d felt when he’d finally saved up enough on his lowly apprentice wages to buy the carving kit. His father finding a figure of a dog he’d carved and throwing it in the fire. The shock and awe of being asked to sell his sculptures in a gallery. The venom in his ex-wife’s face when she’d told him she didn’t want to be with someone who made sissy carvings anymore.
He slid one of the chisels out of its pouch and held it in his hand, the handle fitting into his palm like it was made for it. He hadn’t touched the tools since Sharon left, discarding them out of fear. Except for that one night when he’d felt compelled to carve the dragonflies on the ends of Callie’s freestanding shelves. Callie had given him back the hope in his life. Her belief in his talent had reignited his passion.
He slid his hand across the piece of wood on the bench. The timber seemed to pulse with life beneath his touch, crying out to be shaped and worked into something exquisite. He never knew what he would uncover before he started. It was inside, waiting for him to bring it to life. He closed his eyes, blocked his mind to the music still thumping through the corrugated iron shed, and traced the wood. He opened his eyes, reached for his chisel and began.
Slowly the figure began to reveal itself as a kangaroo with a joey in her pouch. He swapped tools without conscious thought as he shaped the tail, the powerful hind legs, and the more delicate work of the face. He was so engrossed in his work, the hours passed quickly until he looked up, dazed and disoriented when he finished. His stomach growled and the night was pitch black outside the shed. As always when he got in the zone, he’d completely lost track of time. He looked at his watch. Nearly midnight. No wonder his stomach was protesting about the lack of food.
Outside the window, his house was in darkness. Hopefully that meant Sharon had gone to bed and wouldn’t try to waylay him to reminisce about their married life. She’d tried that this morning, reminding him of when the girls were little and they’d head each year to the Mindalby Agricultural Show, thrilling the girls with the rides and showbags.
He took a step back and gazed at his carving. He could already see parts he could improve. His skills were rusty from lack of use. But all in all, it wasn’t a bad effort after so long.
Much better than his efforts to re-enter the relationship scene, that’s for sure.