Cool Bananas (5 page)

‘They’ve got the bloke who done in Wintry.’

‘You mean
Winter
, don’t you?’

‘Yeah. Her. Some nutter who she’d been screwin’ done it. Sawed her up, put it all in the boot of his car, then chucked the bits over the cliff.’

‘So how come the arm was found round at the other point and the other, um, parts haven’t been found?’ Kay looked sceptical.

‘Dunno. Some bits must have landed in the sea an’ a shark ate ’em,’ said Rob as if he was talking about butcher’s scraps.

He really was the creepiest person, but then sometimes he did come in useful for delivering pizzas when Kay was extra busy, although she always made him put on a clean T-shirt and shorts, and
scrub his hands with a nailbrush and carbolic soap.

‘Ugh.’ Liz shuddered.

Flick didn’t say a word. Mentally she was gently placing the mutilated pieces of Winter Knight in a velvet-lined coffin and saying a private little prayer for the woman who’d died so violently at the hands of a maniac.

‘But there’s more,’ said Rob importantly, swaggering over to the drinks fridge and pulling out a bottle of Coke. He took off the top with his teeth, spat it into the bin and took a long swig from the bottle. Then he looked at Kay.

‘There’s a takeaway food van startin’ tomorrow. Across the road.’

‘What?’

‘I just saw them puttin’ it there with me own eyes. Stick ya head out the door an’ take a look for yerself.’

‘But …’ Kay was aghast as she stared out at the large white van that had just been towed into position by a big truck. ‘That’s against the law. You can’t have a food van stuck in the middle of nowhere.’

‘This isn’t the middle of nowhere,’ Rob pointed out. ‘This is Coolini Beach, an’ it’s called free enterprise.’

‘They still have to get council approval,’ snapped Kay, marching to the phone and dialling furiously.

The others quickly busied themselves with chores. Even Angela, sensing a big storm brewing, got off her chair and started checking the ice-cream fridge.

‘It’s true!’ Kay shouted, slamming down the phone. ‘Forget rules about fair trade. Forget ethics. Forget everything decent. The council’s given permission without even consulting me. I’ll just bet money changed hands. I’ll just bet it did. It’s illegal. I’ll sue. I’ll —’

‘Hang on,’ said Flick. ‘It’s a food van. You’ve got a general store and a cafe. Where’s the competition? Okay, so they might do a few burgers and hot dogs and ice-creams, but who cares? The people will come here, not go there. There is such a thing as customer loyalty, you know.’

‘You’re right,’ said Kay, cheering up. ‘Why am I getting steamed up about nothing? And you, Rob, owe me for one Coke.’

As the days progressed, however, Kay found that she had quite a bit to worry about.

The hot food van sold pies, pasties, sausage rolls, hamburgers, and fish ’n’ chips, takeaway tea or coffee, ice-creams and cold drinks. They also sold a few chocolate bars and crisps.

‘Cheap and greasy,’ was Kay’s verdict when she walked back to the store from her trip up the road to inspect it.

But the surfers and beach-goers and campers didn’t seem to think so. They seemed to think it was cheap and cheerful. It was right on the beachfront, so they didn’t have to cross back over the road to buy things. The service was quick because there weren’t heaps of selections and the food was already prepared. The
pies, not homemade, were only two dollars, the fish ’n’ chips were three dollars, the hamburgers were three dollars with the lot.

‘Of course you can’t compare it quality-wise,’ Kay announced to all and sundry. ‘My seafood pies are homemade with quality products and butter pastry, and my beef patties are made with lean choice topside steak. You pay for what you get.’

But when the surfers took a break or the swimmers and beach-goers decided that they were hungry, it was easier and cheaper to stroll up to the van and buy instant greasy takeaway than put their shoes on to walk across the gravelly side road, or take off their wetsuits, or put on a T-shirt and shorts over their bathers because Kay wouldn’t allow people wearing wetsuits or bathers in her premises, but they could sit outside at the tables and chairs. The van was also closer to the camping ground, which meant a lot of the campers didn’t have so far to walk to get their takeaways.

Fortunately the buses still rolled in and a lot of the holiday house owners still patronised Kay, but business was definitely down in the hot food, cool drinks and ice-cream area.

‘We need to have a gimmick, but what?’ Kay frowned as she stared out the door at the queue of people lining up at the hot food van.

‘I can paint you a new sign,’ Liz offered. She’d been doing a special arts course and was dying to try the paints she’d been given for Christmas. ‘I could do a beach scene with
Coolini Beach General Store and Kayah Cafe
in curly writing.’

‘How are you going to climb up on the roof and do it?’ asked Braden.

‘No, I’d make it like a sandwich board so it could be put on the roadside so that the travellers can see it before they get to the van, and they’ll pull in here.’

‘That’s a great idea,’ said Flick. ‘I can help.’

‘I’ll pay you,’ said Kay. ‘That is, if it’s a good job.’

‘No, it’ll be a gift,’ said Liz, squeezing Kay’s arm. ‘You’ve had a bad time lately.’

Kay pressed her lips together. She was thinking not only about the decline in business but about her husband Cam who was home with the flu, and Roxie, who was refusing to live there. Roxie said she didn’t want to look after her father in case
she
caught the flu. She was supposed to be working in the cafe but said she had migraines, and the latest was she’d been detained in the police lock-up two nights before for being drunk and disorderly at a pub in Lorne. Right now she was sitting on a stool drinking strong black coffee and looking decidedly seedy.

Flick had moved back in with Liz, which suited
Roxie just fine because she was now living temporarily till Monday in Flick’s van and entertaining Nathan and a few other guys in instalments. Roxie was a good worker when she hadn’t been drinking too much, but she could also be immature and selfish, and she nearly drove Kay demented with her wild ways.

Josh was supposed to come back on Monday from his surfari. He’d phoned Liz to say he was staying an extra two days because the surf was fantastic. And Tim had phoned from Surfers Paradise to say how much he missed Flick but that the waves were awesome. She hadn’t heard a thing from Kiev at all. So much for his promise to keep in touch!

‘We could work on the sign over the weekend,’ said Flick. ‘We haven’t got anything else to do, have we Liz?’

‘Not really.’

‘I’ve got it!’ said Roxie suddenly, making them all jump.

‘Got what?’ Flick and Liz looked at each other. Did she mean some sexually transmitted disease? Or the flu?

‘An idea. The pub had this big cocktail contest.’

‘I heard about it,’ said Kay in an ominously quiet voice. ‘You were in it.’

‘I was a
tester
,’ said Roxie. ‘And don’t start nagging, Mum, or I won’t tell you my idea.’

She ran her hands through her dyed bright red hair which she’d had streaked blonde. To Flick she looked like an exploding firework on New Year’s Eve.

‘What’s your idea?’ Flick perched on an adjacent stool.

‘We run an Invent a Drink competition.’

‘What?’ Kay’s eyes nearly popped out of her head.

‘I don’t mean an
alcoholic
drink. I mean a shake or a smoothie or a soda or something.’

‘That’s crazy.’

‘No, it’s not. Think about it. A special Coolini Beach shake or smoothie. It’d bring the crowd in to watch the contestants preparing their entry. The winner gets … I dunno … two nights in a posh Melbourne hotel.’

‘And how am I supposed to afford that?’

‘No probs. I know the manager of this swanky hotel right in the heart of Melbourne and he owes me. That’s my contribution. Now, all you lot have to do is make the notices and advertise in the local papers. We don’t want it small: we want it
big
.’

Roxie unpeeled herself off the stool. ‘I’m going to lie down,’ she announced in a bored sort of voice.
‘I think I’m getting chronic fatigue syndrome or something.’

‘You need a good feed and a good night’s sleep,’ snapped Kay. ‘You’re —’

‘Oh, spare me the crap.’ Roxie sauntered out, crossed the road and strolled towards Flick’s bus.

Kay looked at her staff. ‘What do you think?’

‘It could work,’ said Angela. ‘The pub was really jumping when the cocktail contest was on.’

‘We’d have to hold it indoors for health reasons,’ said Kay. ‘We wouldn’t want flies dive-bombing the drinks and posing as passionfruit seeds.’

Everyone burst out laughing. Kay had a dry sense of humour which she hadn’t used much lately. She always liked a challenge and this was a way of getting publicity for her business without compromising her standards.

‘Yeah. Well, we could open up the double doors at the end and put the contestants there,’ said Flick, pointing. ‘And the audience could sit outside. That’d mean we could still run the cafe and shop while the contest was on.’

‘When would we have it?’ Kay pondered.

‘Well, it’d take a few days to advertise, so —’

‘No, I meant the time of day.’

‘It’d have to be either after the lunchtime rush and
before the Devonshire teas, or after the Devonshire teas and before the evening rush,’ stated Liz firmly. ‘A lot of people sleep-in, so it’s no good having it early in the morning.’

‘I agree.’ Flick frowned. ‘Probably after the Devonshire teas, because the weather’s cooler.’

‘What about after the evening rush?’

‘We’d have a problem with outdoor lighting and mozzies.’

‘I reckon about four thirty,’ said Flick. ‘The crowd’s leaving the beach and has to pass here, the residents are usually strolling about before they start dinner, and the surfers often have a quick break round that time.’

Kay was busily scribbling down notes. ‘We’d need the recipes and names of the drinks in before the competition,’ she said. ‘We might have to limit the entries.’

‘That’s true. We might have to run heats,’ said Liz. ‘We might even have to run the contest through the week and then have the semis and grand final on Thursday and Friday.’

She always had a vivid imagination, and in her mind’s eye she could see this developing into a state-wide contest, then maybe even a national, then …

‘And of courth we mightn’t have
any
entranth,’ said Braden, who was the eternal pessimist.

‘Good one, Braden.’

‘As if!’

‘I’ll start on the notices,’ said Kay. ‘I think I’ll put one on the window and see what sort of a reaction we get.’

‘Maybe we should just advertise it locally and see how we go, then extend it later in the year,’ said Flick thoughtfully. ‘I mean, if it was suddenly huge, we wouldn’t be able to cope. And if it’s local we can develop some civic pride — what do you call it, community spirit.’

‘Good idea. And Flick and I will start on the sandwich board tonight,’ added Liz.

Kay did a quick notice on the computer, printed it out and stuck it on the window:

COOLINI BEACH SHAKE CONTEST

When Roxie heard the news that the contest was only going to be advertised locally, she pouted and carried on, but as Kay pointed out, they didn’t have the expertise to run something enormous, it had to be
done quickly and cheaply, and the prize didn’t warrant extending the contest far and wide. And seeing as Roxie wasn’t going to bust her guts doing the hard work, she had to cave in and shut up.

The rest of the day buzzed past happily because everyone was buoyed up and felt that they had something purposeful to do. Even the constant empty feeling that Flick carried with her in her heart seemed to have eased slightly. She’d come to the conclusion that Kiev had merely been toying with her feelings and had no intention of getting in touch with her. They were, as Kay would say, just ships that passed in the night. And just as well, because she could concentrate on her relationship with Tim when he got back.

‘Let’s take a stroll over to the hot food van and get a look at the competition,’ said Liz when they both finished for the day. ‘It’s still open.’

‘Okay. We might even buy some of their greasy fish ’n’ chips. For experimental purposes only.’

The two girls sauntered across the road, admiring the beautiful pink sunset over the calm waters of Bass Strait. Flick had on her navy shorts and red top while Liz was wearing hipsters and a brief blue top. Being so slim, the style suited Liz, whereas Flick always felt that her thighs and butt were too big and her waist
too small for hipsters. She had a classic pear-shaped figure, or so she thought. That style needed a small butt and lean thighs.

‘Red sun in the morning, shepherd’s warning. Red sunset at night, shepherd’s delight,’ quoted Flick.

‘But it’s pink.’

‘I know. But I don’t remember any pink poems.’

‘I know one. ‘Little Miss Pink fell down the sink. How many miles did she fall? One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. You’re out!’ It’s one of those counting-out rhymes.’

‘Remember “One potato, two potato, three potato, four. Five potato, six potato, seven potato, more”? I mean, how dumb is that, counting potatoes?’

‘Little kids today probably say french fries or chips,’ giggled Liz. ‘Like, “One chip, two chips, three chips, four.”’

‘Doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.’

They’d arrived at the hot food van and both girls studied the menu. Flick looked at the three guys behind the counter. No, they weren’t the same men she’d overheard when she was serving their food. These were young guys, confident and good-looking.

But then rich men who drove a late-model Merc probably wouldn’t lower themselves to work at hot
food vans — they’d employ young people and pay minimum wages.

‘What’ll you have?’ Liz asked Flick. ‘My shout.’

‘Um … I think I’ll just have some chips.’

‘We’ve got a last-minute special on hot dogs,’ one of the guys said. ‘Dog with cheese, coleslaw and sauce for a dollar.’

‘What?’ Flick’s eyes widened. A similar hot dog at Kay’s would cost two dollars fifty. No wonder this mob were stealing the customers.

‘We’ll take two,’ said Liz, looking up at the guy serving.

Then Flick saw her double-blink. The guy stared back. He was about eighteen, with a blond fringe that flopped over one eye and the rest was cut really short. He had deep brown eyes, a golden tan, and the whitest teeth Flick had ever seen on a human who was not on TV. They were even whiter that Kiev’s.

‘Hi,’ said the guy. ‘Have we met before?’

‘Er … no,’ stammered Liz. ‘Um … we’ll have two of the hot dog specials please.’

‘Coming right up.’

But he didn’t move, just kept staring at Liz. It was like watching one of those tableaus on ice, where the characters seemed to be frozen in time. Liz stood
there, mesmerised. Finally, he winked then turned to the steamer and extracted two hot dogs which he expertly popped into two warmed buns, dabbing on grated cheese, coleslaw and sauce. Both went into long white bags.

‘Here you go.’

‘Oh, um, thanks …’ Liz’s voice trailed away.

‘Do you guys own this?’ Flick asked, waving her hand vaguely round in the air.

‘What? The van? As if. Nah, it belongs to the Martini brothers. We just work for them.’

‘Ah, I see. Do they by any chance drive a big black Merc?’

‘That’s them. Why?’

‘Oh, just asking.’

He turned his attention to Liz. ‘Will I see you tomorrow?’

‘Um … well … I’ll see.’

‘I’m here from ten in the morning till six tomorrow. My name’s Danny.’

‘Um … I don’t …’

‘What’s your name?’

‘Liz.’ She hung her head and scuffed her feet in the sand.

‘How about you come just after six? We can go for a walk on the beach or you can come over to the
camping ground, site 14 if I miss you. It’s behind the ranger’s hut.’

‘Well, I —’

‘See you tomorrow then.’

Flick and Liz strolled away nibbling at their hot dogs. A few surfers were out catching a late wave in the dying rays of the sun. The air was still. Smoke rose from the camp fires and a slight breeze wafting inshore stirred the tips of the trees.

‘Well?’

‘Well what?’

‘I saw the sizzling going on between you and that guy Danny.’

‘We weren’t sizzling, we were just chatting.’

Flick turned and faced her friend. ‘Level with me, Liz. You felt this magnetic attraction for Danny, didn’t you? And now you’re feeling confused because you and Josh are an item and you’re not supposed to feel like that about anyone except Josh. Right?’