‘Come here,’ he said, feeling her soften for the briefest moment, her damp face resting on the hollow between his shoulder and collarbone, arms clamped by her sides. ‘It’s alright, you’re good.’
‘I’m n-n-not normally such a sook,’ she said, sniffing and stepping away with a shake of her head. ‘I don’t do well with crying babies. And I don’t know if you heard it, but they were all at it in there.’
He laughed, handing her a paper serviette from his pocket. ‘It’s clean, I think. And those babies were making such a racket, I think the swamp monsters at the bottom of the Blue Lake heard them. I was tempted to rip that napkin up and use it as earplugs.’
That got a weak laugh, and he remembered the other chocolate he’d bought. He tore the wrapper open and handed it to Clem. ‘Sugar’s good. I hope you don’t mind, but I slipped some to your girls too. Figured you needed a moment.’
She took a bite of the Cherry Ripe, giving him a grateful smile as she chewed. ‘Thanks. I mean it though, this isn’t my finest moment, I don’t normally lose it like that.’ She winced. ‘And I’ve blubbed all over your shirt.’
He glanced down, surprised at the damp patch he hadn’t even noticed. ‘Nothing a wash can’t fix,’ he said. ‘Not that it matters.’
She passed him the last half of the chocolate bar, then shrugged when he shook his head. ‘You’re probably used to crying women if you’re carrying an emergency supply of chocolates and tissues with you. They teach you that on the TV show?’
‘University,’ he replied. ‘But always with a big “at your own peril” disclaimer. Soothing sobbing high schoolers can go wrong very quickly. Plus, with the type of make-up teenage girlswear these days, and the price of a decent business shirt, it’s safer and way cheaper to offer distractions rather than a hug.’
Sunshine glinted in through a window, making Clem’s dark hair shimmer with threads of gold. He noticed she had three earrings in each ear, with silver studs in ascending size. She wasn’t like Belle, not really. And as she met his gaze, he felt something unfurl inside him.
8
Clem faffed around the cafe on Monday morning, folding up half of the crochet lap rugs and storing them inside. The other half she kept in the outdoor cupboard. While the worst of the cold weather was done, spring, summer and autumn had their fair share of changeability on the Limestone Coast.
‘Do you think Uncle Jack wants to be in the play?’ Harriet asked as the police cruiser appeared in their driveway. ‘Lauren’s good on the radio and podcast, she’s probably really good at acting too.’ Harriet tossed her lunch box aside, smoothed down her school uniform and raced across the cafe to open the door for her uncle.
Clem smiled at the cheerful chatter between the pair, ran a quick eye over Indi’s daycare bag and picked up the abandoned lunch box. She grabbed a notepad and penned a quick ‘You’re awesome’ note for Harriet. There would be a time when her girls were too cool for lunch box notes, but until then she’d keep slipping them in at random and imagining Harriet’s smile when she discovered them at recess.
Jack crossed the cafe to greet them. ‘Watch out Nicole Kidman, Harriet Crossley is set for world domination,’ Jack said. ‘I look forward to hearing more about this play.’
Jack took both lunch boxes, looking around for his younger niece while Harriet slipped her school backpack onto her scrawny shoulders. ‘Indi’s outside looking for Orange Peel. We saw a glimpse of him last night when we got home from the hospital, didn’t we Mum?‘
Jack’s gaze met Clem’s. ‘Hospital? How did that go?’
Clem knew her brother wasn’t talking about the guinea pig sighting. ‘So-so.’
Jack had been the one to pick up the pieces after she’d fallen dangerously ill eight years ago, and he’d done everything he could to make sure she didn’t become sick again when she had Indi. ‘Mia would’ve understood if you didn’t visit her in hospital. You didn’t have to put yourself through that, a quick explanation would have got you off the hook.’
Harriet looked between her mum and her uncle, shrugged and headed for the door. ‘I’m going to help Indi.’ She looked at her wristwatch and pointed a finger at Jack. ‘Don’t be too long, mister.’
‘Enough time has passed since I was sick, I should be able to do things like that,’ Clem said miserably.
‘And how was it? ‘
Clem sighed. ‘Awful. I’ll be happy if I don’t set foot in a maternity ward for another decade. Four screaming babies, four tired mums and four sets of visitors. My definition of hell and now everyone probably thinks I’m an idiot.’
Jack nodded and, to her surprise, leaned in to give her a hug. ‘You’re doing a great job, you know?’ he told her. ‘Not many people have gone through something as traumatic as post-natal psychosis, and it’s okay to lose it every now and then. Yourfriends will understand, and if they don’t, maybe they aren’t actually your friends.’
‘Of course they’re my friends,’ Clem snapped. ‘Sorry, I know they won’t judge me, but I’m not dredging up the whole sorry story, not now. I’m fine, honestly, Jack. It was a ridiculous over-reaction.’ She capped and uncapped her pen, lowering her voice as the girls rushed in. ‘Hearing about that Glenelg case, and the stress of the cafe coupled with those crying babies just sent me into a tailspin, that’s all. I’m fine now, really.’
‘Uncle Jack, we’re ready!’
Clem watched her girls pat Jack’s pockets, searching for his car keys.
‘Thanks for taking these munchkins to school this morning. Hectic day for me. Are you sure you’re right for pick-up? The sooner the school bus is back on the road, the better.’
Jack squirmed away from Harriet and Indi, who had now resorted to tickling him. He tossed his keyring high in the air with a wink and caught it. ‘Piece of cake. You have a good day, and no more stressing, yeah?’
Clem waved them goodbye and settled in for a busy morning at the cafe. The early-morning walking group called in first, then Sam and Laura popped in for coffee on their way to work at the health centre and primary school respectively.
She was nutting out the costing for a catering quote when Spencer walked in, looking shower-fresh and annoyingly chipper for 7.30 on a Monday morning.
