The Stranding (29 page)

Mrs Jensen and Mrs Dowling were fussing over the iced-cake exhibits when Lex walked into the food and craft pavilion. Considering it was just an old shed, he was impressed with the job they had done to decorate it, with banners on the walls and streamers strung across the steel joists. Mrs Jensen saw him come in and waved him over to a stand where an urn had been set up along with dozens of cups and saucers all lined up in neat rows. He found a tea bag and poured himself a cup. Then he wandered around the pavilion for a closer look.

Tables were set up in long rows across the pavilion displaying all sorts of food arrangements: fruit cakes carefully sliced to show the even distribution of their fruits, plates of scones, preserved fruits, various medleys of home-grown vegetables, loaves of home-baked bread, schoolgirl cupcakes. He was stunned by the array of local crafts too—knitwear for babies, jumpers, hats, carefully stitched dresses, items of turned wood, model aeroplanes, cars.

He watched a woman setting up a spinning wheel in one corner of the shed. She was wearing a pair of old fawn trousers and a purple cheesecloth top. He was sure he’d never met her before, but there was something about her that looked familiar. He couldn’t work it out. Something about the way she moved. He watched her screwing a few parts of the spinning wheel together then he wandered over to the iced-cakes display where Mrs Jensen was still organising tablecloths and the location of prize cards.

‘It looks fantastic, Mrs Jensen. You’ve done a great job.’

She straightened up and looked at him down that hooked nose of hers. ‘We’ve quite a bit of talent in our local community, as you can see.’

He followed her along the table.

‘Here are the bridal cakes. Just look at the lace work on this one. Sharon Morris does a spectacular job.’ Mrs Jensen paused to glance at him. ‘That’s Barry’s wife. From the service station. She wins it every year.’

‘What do you do with the cakes after?’ he asked.

‘Most of them are sold. What else can you do with them? Sharon takes photos of hers and keeps an album.’

‘Do you do the iced cakes as well?’

She snorted. ‘No. I’m better at the fine knitting and the cross-stitch, though it’s getting harder these days with my eyesight starting to go.’

At the end of the cake tables, they had a clear view of the far corner of the shed. Lex could still see the woman down there, laying out wool in an old wicker basket.

‘Who’s that?’ he asked.

Mrs Jensen looked at him with surprise. ‘I thought you’d know,’ she said, lips slightly compressed. ‘That’s Cynthia Wallace. She does the spinning demonstration every year.’

‘I see.’ Lex tried to hide his discomfort. No wonder the woman had looked familiar. He could see it now. She moved just like Callista and dressed a little like her too. She even pinned her hair back behind her ear in the same way. Thinking of Callista made his heart curl over in his chest.

‘I’ll just put my cup back,’ he said. ‘Where can I wash it?’

‘Here, let me take it.’ Mrs Jensen took the cup. Her eyes were measuring him up. ‘You go over and say hello.’

He’d planned on going straight back outside, but he had little choice now that Mrs Jensen was watching him. Pausing to look at various exhibits, he made his way towards the spinning wheel.

‘Hello,’ Cynthia said brightly. ‘You’re here early. I didn’t know they’d opened the gates.’

‘I’ve just been setting up the stage. For the Show Girl competition.’

‘Oh.’ Cynthia looked confused. ‘Have they given you a job?’

‘Yes. They’ve asked me to be MC.’

She frowned and looked at him closely. Lex wondered what she was thinking, whether she had worked out who he was.

‘I’m Cynthia Wallace. I don’t believe we’ve met.’ She stretched out a slender brown hand that could have been Callista’s, only it was more weathered and wrinkled.

‘Lex Henderson.’

Cynthia smiled. ‘Ah,’ she said. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’

He flushed. ‘I guess you would have.’ He wasn’t sure what to say.

‘I hope people haven’t given you too much of a hard time about buying that house,’ she said, pushing some more wool into the wicker basket. ‘The locals are inclined to be a bit forward with their opinions. They can make people feel uncomfortable at times.’

He flushed again. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be.’ She stood straight and stretched her back. ‘It isn’t your fault. I mean, how could it be?’ She was frowning slightly as she looked up at him. ‘So they’ve asked you to MC the Show Girl?’ She was sizing him up. ‘That’s a big call.’

‘Yes, it is for a city chap. I’ll have to jump through a few hoops to impress them.’

‘Forget about impressing them. Just enjoy yourself. Everyone will have a better time then.’

‘And what about you? Doing the spinning?’

‘I can do it in my sleep. In fact, I often have done. When the kids were small. But that’s a long time ago.’ She smiled at him again. ‘It is nice to meet you, Lex, after all this time. God knows, sometimes when Callista talked about you I thought I’d be meeting an ogre.’

‘I can be an ogre on my bad days.’

‘And can’t we all. Callista included.’ Cynthia frowned. ‘I’d like to say she got that from her father. But you know how it is. She’s probably more like me.’

Lex laughed. He liked this sunny, warm woman. There was a lot of her in Callista.

‘I hope you’ll come out to our place for a drink sometime soon, if Callista ever gets around to asking you.’

Lex felt uncomfortable again. ‘Yes, well, we’ll see how it goes.’ He wondered again how much she knew, and realised glumly that she probably knew everything. It would be like that in a country town. And Callista was her daughter. He ought to be wise to it by now.

‘Make sure you catch up with her today,’ Cynthia said, smiling kindly at him. ‘Things might take a turn for the better. She’s had a spot of luck. But I can’t tell you. She’ll want to tell you herself.’

He wondered what could have happened. ‘I suppose I ought to make sure everything’s ready,’ he said.

‘Yes, and I’ve got to get some more wool out of the car. Spinning all day it seems like I need the wool from sixty sheep to keep me going. Good luck with the Show Girl.’

Callista set up her stand on the far side of the showground, where she was well away from the noise of the carnival rides and could get a full view of the events going on in the arena. She loved the Show. She had been coming every year for as long as she could remember. It was a big day for the local community. Just about everyone she knew from around town had a job of some kind. Her father always spent the day on the ground in the arena marshalling competitors and Cynthia would be setting up her spinning demonstration in the craft pavilion. Jordi was down at the servo pumping petrol. He was usually tied up there all day, with all the extra traffic in town.

She’d heard that Lex was to be MC for the Show Girl this year, and at first she had laughed, imagining him all tongue-tied and awkward up there in front of the microphone. But then she’d had a surge of sympathy for him. Even after their blow-up, she didn’t want to see him make a fool of himself. And she had to admit that she missed him, that she thought of him often, and that she had spent many days waiting for him to phone her in the gully. But the phone call had never come, and now she was unsure how she’d feel when she saw him today. Whether she’d still be angry with him, or whether seeing him would unlock the yearning within her that had subsided to a dull ache in recent times.

Earlier she had spotted three men fiddling around on the Show Girl stage, and her heart had skipped, knowing Lex must be among them. But she didn’t go over and say hello. It was best she kept her distance from him.

At least it looked like they were going to be lucky with the weather this year. The sky was a bit overcast, but the clouds were high and thin and might even burn off to sunshine late morning. She sat down and poured herself a coffee from her thermos. The crowd should start to pick up soon, and she liked to sit back and people-watch.

Just before eleven, Callista hooked a rope across the front of her stand and headed for the stage. The Show Girl contest was always held at eleven o’clock, giving enough time for the crowds to arrive, have a bit of a look around and get in a few rides, maybe buy a show bag or two. It should be particularly interesting this year with Lex trying to fuddle his way through as MC. Callista felt a little nervous for him.

A crowd had already gathered in front of the stage and she spotted Lex standing off to one side holding a sheaf of papers. The girls were in a nervous flurry behind him. He was dressed in a dark blue suit and yellow tie and her heart squeezed as she looked at him. She saw him turn away from the girls and check his watch. Then he walked up the steps onto the stage. He stepped up to a microphone and adjusted it with a quick swivel of his wrist. She noticed he did it expertly, without looking. And his eyes were roving over the audience calmly. There was something strange about this, something about him that looked too comfortable.

‘Good morning, ladies and gents,’ he said. ‘Welcome.’

His voice was smooth as silk over the speakers. Quite soft, but clear, sexy almost. He wasn’t nervous at all.

‘Welcome to the Merrigan Show Girl contest. It’s an event many of you have been waiting for.’

As he spoke he swivelled his head to check the crowd, the judges, all without losing contact with the mike, his voice mellow, soft, thrilling. Callista’s heart turned. He must have done this before.

‘I’m Lex Henderson,’ he said. ‘And I’m going to be your MC this morning.’ He smiled and waved a slow arm in the direction of the girls, who were watching him anxiously from the base of the stairs. ‘I’ve already met and spoken with the young ladies who are our contestants today. And I’ll soon be introducing them to you. But first I want to tell you a little about the Show Girl event.’

His introduction was a departure from the ordinary and Callista wondered what he was planning. Mrs Jensen would be doing a back-flip, but Callista suspected Lex knew exactly what he wanted to do. As he paused, he glanced at her and gave a small, very private smile. She realised he was enjoying himself and she couldn’t stop herself from smiling back.

‘Traditionally, girls from local families around Merrigan enter this event when they turn eighteen. So really, it’s a coming of age. A very big event. A day of great excitement for everyone in Merrigan. And rather than viewing this event as a competition where only one girl is the winner, I want you all to mentally step back from that concept and instead think about the Show Girl event as a debut of wonderful young talent, and a celebration of the freshness and enthusiasm of the young ladies of our region.’

Callista liked it. It was a clever start. She watched Lex at the microphone, hands hooked inside his pockets, eyes shifting calmly through the crowd. As she glanced around the audience she saw that the Merrigan community was watching him too—astounded. Even Mrs Jensen was nodding with approval. Callista realised she was proud of him.

‘Usually at this event the girls stand up one by one and talk about themselves and their lives,’ Lex said. ‘But this year I’m going to use a bit of poetic licence to help the girls along and make it a bit more fun for them. We’re going to have a chat, a casual interview if you like, just to get the ball rolling. The first young lady I’m going to introduce you to today is Frannie Baker.’

He turned and beckoned to a tall thin girl with long hair, who stepped meekly onto the stage.

‘Welcome, Frannie.’

While the audience clapped, Lex leaned forward and quickly tweaked the other microphone to the right height for her. Frannie looked scared. But Lex was speaking to her very softly.

‘Here,’ he said. ‘Step forward. The mike won’t bite. That’s it. About two inches off. Stay close and just speak normally. There you go.’

‘Hello. I’m Frannie Baker.’ The girl smiled at the clarity of her voice. She looked suddenly beautiful. ‘I live with my parents on a dairy farm on the flats out from Merrigan.’

She hesitated and stared nervously into the crowd. There was an awkward silence. This was usual for the Show Girl contest. Nothing was different, after all. But then Lex slipped in quietly.

‘There’s more you can tell us about your family, isn’t there? I’ve heard your dad is quite famous locally.’

‘Oh yes. He is famous. There’s my dad.’ Frannie pointed. ‘Trevor Baker. He’s the local wood-chopping champion. Defending his title today. Go, Dad!’

The crowd clapped enthusiastically and Trevor waved his fist in the air. Frannie smiled. She went on to tell everyone about Trevor’s history as the local wood-chopping champion and all about his training sessions. How the whole family supported him—saved up to buy new axes for his birthdays. It was great listening. Frannie relaxed and the story flowed out. Then she stopped again, out of steam.

‘What about you, Frannie?’ Lex asked. ‘What are your plans for the future?’

The girl blushed and then shyly outlined her hopes to study teaching and get a primary class at the local school so she could teach the kids more about environmental issues. There was a lot the local community could do, without jeopardising their livelihoods, to protect their farmlands and the river and coastline, she said. Changing attitudes at school was the best place to start. The crowd stood silent, listening intently. When Frannie left the stage she looked happy, and the crowd followed her with their applause.

The next girl was Tracey Dowling. Mrs Dowling’s niece. She was small and mousy and she gaped at the microphone, obviously terrified. But Lex was there again, asking her to tell them about the funniest thing that had ever happened to her.

The girl thought for a moment, then smiled at him shyly. ‘Well, there was this one time that I could tell you about, when we were kids . . .’ she said.

Lex nodded encouragement and Tracey smiled again.

‘Well, on this particular day, Dad was taking us all down the paddock in the tractor, and we were sitting up on the hay bales in the back, for the cows in the back paddock . . .’

She hesitated and the crowd was silent, willing her to go on. She cleared her throat.