Page 32 of Wings Above the Mallee

‘Sure. Wherever.’

Her tone must have been odd, as Sean grimaced. ‘Sorry. I’m an alcoholic.’

‘Oh.’ She struggled to cover her surprise, school her face into politely interested. ‘But you were in the pub the other week …’ She cringed. Calling Sean out was probably not the correct response.

‘Six years sober. But some days, the pub isn’t the best call for me.’

She had an urge to ask what it was about today that made him reluctant to go to the pub. But she wouldn’t, because the day had so briefly seemed to hold some cheer. Plus she didn’t want to know, didn’t want to get that close, didn’t want to care.

‘The cafe it is, then.’

14

Sean

‘Tell you what,’ Sean said as he held the cafe door open for Amelia, ‘on a chilly day, the smell from this place rivals the best perfume.’

One of the girls waved from behind the counter. ‘I’ll be out in two secs, Sean. Just got to finish putting the cakes in the cabinet. Grab a seat, if you can find one.’ She disappeared behind a wide, refrigerated glass cabinet that almost matched her for height.

‘Wow, this place is packed,’ Amelia murmured, her quick eyes observing the people and diner decor in one swift, curious glance.

‘You’ve not been in before? It’s always busy … though maybe not so much as today,’ he said. An unusual air of excitement filled the crowded cafe.

‘Must be a student-free day at the school?’ Amelia nodded toward a group of preteens giggling over tall milkshakes in the corner. Her mouth tightened and she quickly looked away.

Odd. Her interactions with the RAG hadn’t given him the impression that she didn’t like kids. He directed her to a window seat on the opposite side of the shop.

‘There’s table service?’ she asked.

‘No, but—’ As he spoke, a waitress appeared from behind the counter. Sean grinned. It usually worked out this way. ‘Chrissie,’ he said, half-standing to greet her.

‘Christine,’ the woman corrected, as though they didn’t do this dance regularly. Humour glinted in her dark eyes, although she kept her mouth a rigid line. He’d be willing to put money down that she didn’t have any problems with kids acting up in the cafe. ‘Twice in one week, Sean? We’re overwhelmed.’

‘Can’t stay away from you, Chrissie. You know Amelia, from the RAG, don’t you?’

Christine favoured Amelia with one of her appraising glances. ‘If you mean have ImetAmelia, yes. Can’t only be the part-time job that brought you here, Amelia, surely?’

Christine was never backward in coming forward. He interrupted before poor Amelia had to explain or excuse her existence.

‘Chrissie, I’m going to put myself in your capable hands. I think I’ve sampled everything on the menu over the last few weeks, so whatever you want to give me, I’ll take. And an iced coffee, of course. Unsweetened though. Except for the ice cream. Gotta live a little, you know.’

‘I’m certainly going to surprise you, then,’ Christine said with the tiniest smile. She tapped her order pad against the back of her wrist. ‘Amelia?’ It sounded more like a demand than an invitation to order.

‘The same will be fine. Thank you. But table water, please.’ She waited until the older woman was out of earshot. ‘Thanks for heading her off.’

‘It’ll only be temporary. I don’t have superpowers.’

‘It’s something of a small-town talent, isn’t it? The unashamed prying, I mean, not the superpowers.’

‘Here you are, Sean. And …?’ The young waitress balancing three cane baskets on one arm cocked an eyebrow, proving Amelia right. ‘Christine’s trialling a new menu. Every table gets a complimentary basket of King of Rock ’n’ Rolls.’ She added in a conspiratorial whisper, ‘They’re just banana and jam toasties, but don’t tell Christine I let on.’

‘But they’re so good, right, Tara?’ A tall guy in his thirties slid one arm around the waitress’s waist, snaffling a finger sandwich from her basket with his other hand.

‘Juzzy, you’ve already had two basketfuls!’ Tara looked nervously toward the counter. Apparently the second basket hadn’t been with Christine’s approval. ‘Where do you put it all?’

Juzzy winked. ‘Lot of me to fill.’ Tara turned pink and he chuckled. ‘See you tomorrow, Tars. See ya, Christine,’ he called, departing in a cloud of wood-infused fragrance.

Tara stared after him. ‘Oh my God, isn’t he too good to be true?’

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