5 Peppermint Grove (19 page)

“Oh, I’d love that complaint. I’m bringing my car into town less now, even with my parking spot – I can’t stick the delays . . . oh, hang on, we’re almost there – that was quick. Slow down and take a left onto
Stirling now in a couple of turns.”

“When?” Ruth yelled, fiddling with the indicators.

“I’m not exactly sure – okay, turn now!”

The car seamlessly took the road onto
Richardson Avenue and swept around in a curve onto Bindarring Parade and the beautiful blue of the bay came into view. As they drove along the waterfront, exquisitely manicured houses flitted by on the other side of the road.

“I wonder are those peppermint trees on the esplanade?” Julia asked.

Ruth giggled and watched the wide childlike wonder in her friend’s eyes.

“I think you’re more besotted by my mother’s story than I am!”

“Just keep driving, Ruth – we’re having an adventure! I’ve come halfway around the world to see you – so I’m entitled to one!”

As they continued along the serpentine road the view became more beautiful and each house that they passed was more audacious and spectacular than the one before. The masts and hulls of yachts from the floating moorings flitted by through the trees.

Upturned Optimist dinghies and sail-training boats for children lined the esplanade next to a short jetty. The boathouses marked the marina area and heralded the border of the yacht club.

“Wow, I would love to have seen what this place was like in the seventies when your mum was here.”

“Yeah – a lot of the houses are new builds though – I wonder did they just tear down the old ones?”

Julia shrugged. “Let’s find
Peppermint Grove Road. I’m really impressed by this place.”

They drove up along
Lille Street and past the entrance to the Royal Freshwater Bay Yacht Club.

“Oh, come on, let’s check it out,” Julia urged.

“I thought you wanted to see the house?”

“Okay, but on the way back we have to take a peek.”

They didn’t have to go much further to find their street. And as they drove they really didn’t think that the houses could get much bigger or more ostentatious but they did.

“Check that out – it’s like a Moroccan hotel!” said Julia.

“These are unbelievable,” Ruth agreed.

“Number 11, Number 9, hey, I think we’re nearly there! Number
5
!”

But Number Five wasn’t there – the gates were in place with ‘5’ painted on the pillar but where the house had stood was now an empty site.

Ruth parked and they sat staring at the site, not sure what to say or do.

“What now?” Ruth shrugged.

“Let’s get out and take a look around – that little park over there looks nice.” Julia opened the door and yelped as the heat from the day hit her like a wall. “Wow, how do you get used to this heat?”

They made their way to a little green.

Julia looked back at the empty site. “I think there’s a JCB inside – do you fancy taking a look at what used to be Number 5?”

“I guess we’ve come this far and it looks like Mum’s secret is safely cleared away. What have we got to lose?”

They wandered past the pillars and up the driveway which was more of a dirt track with the grass and all flora cleared away, apart from two mature fruit trees to their left.

“It’s a massive site – I’d love to have seen the original house, wouldn’t you? I wonder if it was one of those Federation-style bungalows?”

“I guess we’ll never know,” Ruth replied.

Suddenly a huge jeep careered into the driveway and the two girls had to jump out of the way not to get knocked down. The driver pulled up abruptly and rolled down his window. He wore a hard hat and a crisp white shirt. His skin was tanned a smooth brown and when he spoke he revealed perfect straight porcelain-white teeth.

“Can I help you, ladies?”

Ruth felt like a rabbit in front of a double-barrel shotgun in hunting season.

“Eh, I’m terribly sorry. We were just looking around.”

“Is that an Irish accent? I love Irish ladies but what are you doing trespassing on my building site?”

“I, we, I mean . . .” Ruth mumbled, more from the shock of being addressed by such an Adonis than any other reason.

“What my friend is trying to say,” Julia interrupted, “is that we were wondering if the owner was here as we think we may know somebody who might like to get in touch with them. But as the house has been cleared away lock, stock and barrel, I guess we can forget that.”

“Hey, another lovely Irish lady! This job keeps getting better. Who was it you were looking for?”

“Somebody called Charles Walters?” said Julia.

“Nah, nobody by that name here – the people who own this plot are called Arthurs,” he replied in rich Aussie tones. “But I could tell you a thing or two about Peppy Grove – my company have been involved in plenty of the new builds around here. I’m sure I could ask a few of them about Charles Walters. Do you have a business card?”

Julia whipped one out of her purse and handed it to him.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said with a wink.

Suddenly Julia wondered if he was asking for their contact details for some ulterior motive.

“Have a good stay here – are you girls living or holidaying?”

“Both,” Ruth said, trying to be more approachable now that Julia had decided to adopt more defensive body language. “I’m working in the CBD and Julia is visiting for a couple of weeks.”

The driver took out his card and handed it to Ruth. “Give me a call if you want any work done – we have very reasonable rates,” he said, winking again.

“Okay, thank you very much,” Julia said with a smile and the two girls teetered down the driveway as quickly as they could.

“Oh my, what a dish, Julia! He seemed to like you too.”

Julia threw her head back with a laugh. “I’m not interested in a holiday fling – I’m here to spend quality time with you! Anyway he looks like a bit of a chauvinistic beast – ‘I love Irish ladies’,” she mimicked naughtily and the two friends fell into the car in convulsions.

This was what they missed about being apart – they weren’t able to be themselves with anybody else in the same way.

Chapter Twenty-seven

The next day was spent on Scarborough Beach, languidly basking in the sun.

“It’s not what I expected really – those waves are enormous!” Julia propped herself up on her elbows.

Ruth was sitting under a parasol and reading a book. She looked out from under her sunglasses. “What were you expecting?”

“I guess I thought the sea would be calmer.”

“It is, further south – down past Fremantle – but this is where the talent and the action is. I thought you might see someone that would tempt you to have a holiday romance and I am determined to be open-minded about meeting someone who is single.”

Julia giggled and lay back down. “What did Steve say when you left work early?”

“He was very understanding – which makes me think that it might not be a bad thing to be bonking the boss!”

Julia sat up abruptly.

“Only joking!” Ruth chided. “But we do get on so well – it’s a treat for me. And you will never guess but I got a text from Ian today.”

“What did he say?”

“He says that he misses me and hopes to get to Perth next month for a short visit. I know that he has no intention of visiting me – I’ve been let down too many times by him. How could I have wasted all those years?”

Ruth frowned and Julia smiled a tight smile. Ten years was a long time to devote to a relationship that she suddenly realised was never going to go anywhere.

“You know, relationships don’t all have to have a sad ending – sometimes couples get married and have babies and live happily ever after,” Julia said.

“Like Craig and Odette? How are they, by the way?”

Julia shook her head. “Oh dear – I’m not sure what’s going on there. I hope and pray they get over this bad patch. I just want everyone to be happy.”

“And what about you, Julia?”

Julia sat up straighter. “What do you mean?” she asked defensively.

“Do you never get sick of thinking about everyone else’s happiness and wonder how you can improve your own?”

“I’m perfectly happy – you should know that better than anyone. I’d be a terrible mother and an even worse wife – I love my career and freedom and independence. I’m not going to squander them for some man who will have me popping out sprogs and tied to the kitchen sink.”

Ruth laughed hard. “I’d like to see any man try!”

“I have a full and happy life and have never met a man who has tempted me in any way to change!”

As the sun lowered the two girls packed up and bought some fish and chips before returning to Subiaco. They sat in the back garden and drank a bottle of sparkling wine as the crow cawed and the midges appeared from the bushes and the trees.

“I’m beginning to feel quite giddy – can we go for a drink?” Julia asked.

Ruth looked at her watch. “It’s
seven o’clock. If we don’t go out soon they’ll all be going home to bed.”

“On a Thursday night?”

“Any night!” Ruth joked. “Although if we go to Rosie O’Grady’s there will be a good crowd – they usually have music on a Thursday. It’s in Northbridge. We can catch a train, it’s not far.”

Julia touched up her make-up and Ruth ran a brush through her hair.

“Am I dressed alright?” Julia asked.

“Julia, you could go to this place in your shorts and thongs!”

“Thongs?”

Ruth giggled. “Yeah, that’s what they call flip-flops over here – sorry, I must have given you a shock!”

“Too right! I’m not going anywhere wearing only my skimpy string underwear!”

“I don’t know how you wear thongs!” Ruth winced. “I’m not built the same as you. I find them excruciatingly uncomfortable.”

“You have a fab slim figure so clothes just hang off you – when you’re overweight like me you need all the help that you can get!”

“Overweight! Julia, are you losing your eyesight in old age – you are slimmer and trimmer than Odette and that’s saying something!”

The two laughed and chatted about all the different things that Ruth had learned since moving and in a way it seemed as if she had been in Australia for a lot longer than four short weeks.

They hopped on a train and were in the city in minutes. The façade of Rosie’s was definitely colonial but inside resembled pubs seen all over rural
Ireland in their heyday. The sign in the window advertised ‘Backpacker Night’.

The smell from the carpet was pungent, documenting years of spilled beer and a distinct aroma of curry sauce wafted from behind the bar. The dark-wood counter was covered from view by girls with scaldy suntans and tall Irishmen in hi-vis tops covering their GAA football shirts, steel-capped boots and shorts. The sound of the house band, Blue Jeans, echoed from the next room.

“Where have you brought me, Ruth?”

Ruth giggled. “Believe me, it’s the liveliest spot in town and I’ve come here on my own when I was feeling really lonely during the first couple of weeks. People are friendly and welcoming because we’re all in the same boat and missing home!”

Julia felt bad for making assumptions about the bar. She didn’t know what it was like to be living so far from home and she could see by Ruth that the sense of the familiar was very important.

“Come on and I’ll get you a Guinness!”

Ruth shook her head. “Too hot for that, Julia – get a Night Nurse!”

“A
what
?” Julia thought she was hearing things – that was medicine she had been given by Carol as a child.

“It’s cider – really nice. Try it!”

“Okay,” Julia agreed and they went up to the counter.

The barman at the other side was tiny. He stood up on a crate before asking Julia what she would like.

“I’ll have two glasses of Night Nurse, please.”

“No problem,” he said and busily poured. “Would you like a pie?”

Ruth interrupted. “It’s Backpacker Night so you get a pint and pie for fifteen dollars.” She turned to the barman and smiled. “No, thanks, we’ve eaten.”

Julia was fascinated by the smiling faces all around. Everyone seemed to know each other and they were talking happily about their day’s work or the football results in the premiership.

“And you’ve come here on your own?” Julia asked.

“It was in the first week and one of the girls on the Facebook page ‘Irish Families in
Perth’ said that there was a crowd coming in. They were really nice girls and they play GAA football two nights a week. It’s just so good to speak to someone with the same sense of humour. The crowd in the office are lovely but they are from all over the world and it’s not the same. I suppose that’s why I’ve agreed to see Steve more and we’ve had a few dinners mid-week . . . but we were talking about work!”