The Christmas Café (9 page)

Flora huffed. ‘I guess, but there’s not much point this year, with them being away until a couple of days before Christmas.’ She turned her attention to the pomegranate in her palm, bashing the hard skin and watching as the glossy pips tumbled into the bowl.

Bea felt the dart of Kim’s eyes in her direction and concentrated on avoiding her gaze. ‘No, well, that would be a waste of their time. And they’re so busy,’ she added, feeling a stab of disappointment at this news, embarrassed that she didn’t know of their plans, plans that evidently excluded her. She felt her neck turn crimson.

‘Where are they going?’ Kim asked.

‘Bali. They’re going with friends. They’ve rented a house on the beach with its own swim-up bar. It looks lovely.’

‘Right.’ Kim cocked her head. ‘Are you going too?’

Bea was all ears.

Flora shrugged. ‘Well, I was, but I’m not sure now. I’ve been in a bit of trouble at school and stuff.’ She rolled her hand as if this gesture might fill in the gaps.

Bea blinked away her awkwardness. ‘Yes, Bali does sound lovely.’ She tried to imagine what she might have done to offend Wyatt and Sarah, particularly as this was her first proper Christmas without Peter. The previous Christmas, so close to his passing, had been a blur, but this year she had assumed they would be there for her through the build-up. Bali, however, didn’t sound much like Christmas to her, especially not with Wyatt and Sarah’s friends. Even after four decades in Australia, she still hankered for the cold, wintry Christmases of her English childhood. She had vivid memories of presents piled under the tree, embroidered stockings on the mantelpiece, a roaring fire in the grate. One year, when she was about ten, it had snowed and after church she and Diane had tobogganed down Box Hill on homemade sledges that didn’t last the hour.

In Sydney, Christmas was all about sunshine, busy beaches, fireworks, fine dining and chilled wine with friends on the terrace. When the temperature outside was a balmy twenty-two degrees, she couldn’t bring herself to send cards showing fat Santas surrounded by snow. The inflatable Santas on the water at Darling Harbour were much more appropriate.

‘What will you do if you don’t go with them?’ Kim asked Flora as she reached for the brioche dough and began to shape it, sprinkling it with cinnamon as she did so.

‘Dunno. Thought I’d come stay with Gran – I mean Bea.’ She smiled over her shoulder at her gran, who beamed back at her.

‘Morning! Morning!’ Tait shouted as he swung into the kitchen and grabbed his apron from the hook. ‘Hi, Flora, how are ya?’

‘Good, thanks. I’m helping Kim with the fruit salad.’ She raised the red-skinned pomegranate in her hand.

‘So I can see. Haven’t seen you in a wee while.’ He smiled.

‘I’ve been at school.’

‘Oh, well, good on ya. What’s your favourite subject?’

‘Art.’ Flora smiled. ‘I like painting.’

‘Right.’ He nodded. ‘Beauty and brains, lucky girl.’

‘Shit it!’ Kim shouted from the corner of the kitchen, where she’d just dropped the dough in a greasy lump on the floor. ‘Sorry, Flora!’

‘S’okay. I’ve heard all the swear words. My friends and I wrote them down in a list,’ Flora said without irony, head down, concentrating on retrieving the pips.

Kim raised her shoulders and grinned at Bea.

‘So, why no school today? Have you broken up already?’ Tait asked as he grabbed an artisan sourdough loaf from the delivery basket and began slicing it.

‘I’ve been suspended.’ Flora caught her gran’s eye, unsure if it was supposed to be a secret.

Kim looked up and Tait paused from the task in hand. ‘Is that right? What did you do? Set the school on fire?’

Flora sighed. ‘No. I punched Marcus Jordan in the mouth and his tooth went into his lip and he was bleeding.’ She concentrated on her pip removal.

‘Well, get you, Little Klitschko! Hope he deserved it!’ Tait roared.

‘No one deserves to be punched, Tait.’ Bea glared at him. ‘It’s not the way to resolve anything.’ She tried to emphasise with her eyes and the tilt of her head that they were not to encourage that sort of behaviour.

‘Well, no, of course not, not unless they really, really deserve it. What do you think, Kim?’

Bea rolled her eyes. He had missed the point somewhat.

‘I. I think... he, well... it depends,’ Kim mumbled.

‘See, Kim agrees with me. If someone is really mean, they might sometimes deserve the old one-two.’ He jabbed his fists, then swept back out into the café.

‘Ignore him, Flora. Violence is never the answer,’ Bea directed.

‘I’ve finished the pomegranates.’ Flora lifted the bowl to show Kim her efforts, then picked up a pineapple and held it out towards her tutor. ‘Do you have any more advice?’

‘Yes.’ Kim sighed and placed her hands on her hips, pushing out her bottom lip to blow her fringe from her eyes. ‘Never, ever work with the object of your desire. It will only cause you stress and mean you spend ridiculous amounts of money on getting your hair done and buying expensive mascara that promises you luscious lashes but actually gives you nothing of the sort. Okay?’

‘Okay.’ Flora nodded, wondering exactly what ‘object of your desire’ meant.

It broke Bea’s heart to see Kim so flustered. If only she were more confident, more aware of her wonderfully magnetic personality and natural beauty. For the rest of the day, Tait was on form, and with Flora to chat to he was jovial and chatty. But Kim retreated into the detail of her chores, not wanting her nerves to get the better of her in front of Flora.

Bea climbed the stairs feeling happy. It had been a busy day and having Flora to share it with had made it extra special. She had relished the gentle ribbing that had flown back and forth, both Tait and Kim showering Flora with love and attention, just the diversion she needed. Several customers had commented on the Christmas lights and she now pictured the chilled bottle of Marsanne that awaited her in the fridge.

Flora was wrapped in a towel on the sofa, her hair wet from the shower, the sun-kissed freckles on her back and shoulders exposed. She looked tired, unused to the physical demands of working in the Kitchen. And she had clearly been crying.

Bea sat down by her side. ‘Don’t get cold sitting there like that.’ She placed a wool throw over Flora’s bare legs.

Flora ignored her and carried on stabbing away at the screen on her phone.

‘Have you thought about what you might want for Christmas – apart from your earplugs, of course?’ Bea asked.

Flora laughed. ‘Don’t know really. I’m saving up for Uggs so I don’t mind if you want to give me money.’

‘Okay, that’s what we’ll do. Uggs sound good.’ Bea drew a deep breath. ‘Flora, I love having you here; it’s smashing to have your company. And I’ve loved working with you today—’

‘I’ve loved it too.’ Flora wiped her eyes.

‘But I think you need to go and see your mum and dad. I really do. You can’t hide out here forever, and the longer you don’t talk to them, the more it will eat away at you, like an unpaid bill.’

‘I’ve never had an unpaid bill.’ Flora blinked at her gran.

‘Well, let’s hope you never do!’ Bea laughed.

It felt alien to be suggesting that Flora go home. The last twenty-four hours had been such a lovely opportunity to get to know her better and she desperately wanted to wrap up her young granddaughter and keep her with her forever. But Bea could see she needed to go home, home to her mum and dad so they could start to unpick the things that were troubling her.

Flora sighed and tucked the blanket around her body. She picked up a mustard-coloured wool cushion and folded it into herself. ‘I guess. I’m a bit scared. I don’t want them shouting at me any more and I know I can say horrid things, but I don’t really mean them.’ Her voice was small, her eyes downcast. Bea thought she looked like she had when she was a toddler.

‘You should tell them that,’ she urged.

‘I can’t. They’re always arguing and I can’t tell them anything, like how much I hate being in Year 8.’

‘Why are they always arguing?’ Bea couldn’t think beyond that comment, worried that their marriage might be in trouble, or more specifically that Wyatt might be unhappy.

Flora looked at her gran and hesitated. ‘Don’t know really.’

‘Well, what do they argue about?’ Bea was aware that this was prying, but she couldn’t help herself.

‘Lots of things. Me. Money. You.’ She sniffed up her tears.

Me?
Bea gasped. Why would they be arguing about
her
?

Flora continued. ‘It all started when I told them I was staying at Jen’s one night, but instead Lori and I slept out on the beach.’

‘What? Flora, that’s crazy! Anything could have happened to you! Don’t ever do that again, promise me!’ Bea was aware she had raised her voice. It was often like that with children, she remembered: you got angry when you were scared for them.

‘I won’t.’ Her voice was small. ‘Mum phoned Jen’s and when she heard I wasn’t there, she went nuts.’

‘I don’t blame her. That’s crazy! Why did you do that?’

Flora shrugged. ‘Cos some of the older kids were having a party and Lori’s brother said we could go with him and I knew Mum and Dad wouldn’t let me, so I made out I was going to Jen’s for a sleepover.’

‘The only way Mum and Dad can keep you safe is if they know where you are. You know that, don’t you?’

Flora nodded. ‘They treat me like a baby.’

‘Oh, darling, you are still a baby in so many ways. I want you not to be in such a rush; everything will come to you.’

‘I guess, but Mum and Dad...’ Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, which she scooted away with the back of her arm. ‘They don’t understand.’

‘Well, help them understand. Tell them how you feel, tell them all of it. It seems to me, Flora, that there are lots of little things going on and it all feels a bit overwhelming, understandably, but by talking about it, you can sort it bit by bit. It’ll make you feel better.’

‘Suppose so. Lori isn’t even talking to me because I punched Marcus and it was kind of her fault I did it.’ She stared dejectedly at the floor. ‘I wish I wasn’t me.’

‘What a very odd thing to say. How can you even begin to wish that you were someone else? You are beautiful and funny and quirky and confident – you always have been. And I am the best authority. I’ve watched how you’ve changed from year to year, from when you were a big fat baby to how you are today. I’m like one of those people that takes the same photo every day for a year and then makes it into a little flick-book movie. You have a glow about you, Flora, and I am many things, but I do not lie.’

‘Thank you.’ Flora sniffed and composed herself. Her sadness turned to anger as she recalled the events of the previous day. ‘I can’t believe that school have made a such a big deal out of it – everyone was talking about it. And then I got back and Mum and Dad were screaming at me! Dad said I couldn’t go to Bali, and that’s a good thing, it’ll be crappy anyway. I’d rather not go! I’d rather not go anywhere. At least here no one knows me, apart from Kim and Tait, but in Manly everyone will be looking at me or teasing me about Marcus. I don’t care if Lori isn’t my friend.’ Her chest heaved, making a mockery of her strong words. ‘I’d rather be lonely than hang out with her.’

‘Lonely? Don’t be ridiculous. You are at the threshold, about to jump in. Take it from one who knows about loneliness, you are just starting out, Flora, you have your whole life ahead of you. And if Lori is as mean as she seems, you’ve had a very lucky escape. Things will work themselves out. You’ll see.’ She squeezed her granddaughter’s arm.

‘I hope so.’ Flora’s face crumpled.

‘Life is full of amazing twists and turns, darling. And it’s quite incredible how quickly things change and become normal when you live them.’

Bea saw an image in her mind: she was staring at a certificate on a table, there was a dark smudge of an inky thumbprint in the corner, the woman’s hand was poised ready to write in a slanting italic hand.
‘And the father’s name?’

‘And Mum and Dad will come around, just you wait and see!’ She smiled, relieved that her own dark memories were just that: memories.

‘Do you really think I should go home then?’ Flora looked up at her gran.

Bea sighed. ‘I would love nothing more than to keep you here for ever and ever. But yes, I think you should go home. Don’t sleep another night without fixing things with Mum and Dad. They love you very much, even if their ideas are very different to yours.’

Flora nodded, trying to be brave, but her tears fell nonetheless.

‘Come on, darling, nothing is that bad.’ She patted her granddaughter’s hand.

‘Can I come back if I need to?’ Flora picked at the hem of her towel.

‘Oh, you silly thing, you don’t have to ask! Of course you can, any time. But I expect they will be so pleased to see you that the whole thing will be forgotten. That’s usually how these things work.’

Flora wandered off to the study to get dressed and Bea picked up the phone to Wyatt. She heard him grabbing his car keys even before the conversation was finished.

Once Flora had left, the apartment felt empty and deafeningly quiet. Bea went to lie on the sofa, pulling the soft grey wool throw over her legs and placing her favourite green cushion under her cheek. The fabric, made from the scarf of someone very dear, gave her comfort, as it always did. A memory rose up suddenly:
‘Please, please stay with me! Please! If you want me to beg, I will. I will beg until you promise me you won’t go!’
She had been desperate. He had stared at her, gripping her arms, supporting her, his eyes imploring her to understand as tears snaked down his face. ‘
If I could, I would, you know I would. But it’s not my choice to make. I cannot... cannot grab happiness at the expense of another. But you have to know that my heart, my spirit, will be here, wrapped around you, holding you tight, keeping you close...’

Bea sat up sharply, looking for something to distract her from the pain of her memories. Her laptop was open and humming faintly in the corner. She pulled it to her and clicked on ‘Reply’ just like Flora had shown her.