Make that a picnic, a sticker book, a jigsaw puzzle and some new colouring books.
The smile stayed on his lips long after he’d set the phone down. There was no doubt about it, real life was way better than anything you saw on television.
13
Melbourne Cup Day dawned clear and sunny, and as Clem took the path from her house to the cafe’s back door, she could smell the luscious roses in her garden. A quick glance to the west revealed the sunflowers growing steadily too. It wouldn’t be long until they were taller than her, and flush with cheerful yellow blooms.
Kev pulled into the driveway as she unlocked the double doors, and they soon had the lights on, chairs down and appliances humming.
It was moments like this, before the customers arrived, with the potential for a prosperous and productive day ahead, that Clem had come to appreciate the most. And with four large groups booked for their Melbourne Cup luncheon, she was keen for everything to run seamlessly.
She was dashing back to the house to wake the girls when her phone rang.
‘Hazel, I’ve been meaning to call you,’ Clem said, pausing in the laundry to start a load of washing.
In the background she could hear Cormac crying and TV cartoons at a higher-than-usual volume. ‘Don’t mind the noise,it’s another breakfast circus in the West household,’ Hazel said. ‘I was calling aboutLove on the Land. We need to get a game plan sorted so we can watch the next episode together, perv on those strapping country boys with their shirts off.’
‘Do they really all take their gear off?’ Clem nudged the fridge door open and pulled out the lunch boxes she’d packed the night before.
‘Yep, that’s what they do,’ Hazel said, glee in her voice. ‘They get all sweaty shearing sheep, grooming horses or wrestling runaway steers, then they have to take off their shirts and cool off in the dam. It’s practically a staple—I’ve seen it at least once every season and I’ll be spitting chips if I don’t get to see at least half a dozen more six packs before the curtains close.’
With a laugh, Clem laid out the breakfast cereals and bowls.
‘Maybe you guys could come around tonight? Glass of wine each, and I’ve got dip and stinky cheese in the fridge. I’ll have plenty for dinner too, if you want to come earlier and settle in for the night.’
Now that Cormac had passed that helpless newborn stage, Clem felt more comfortable inviting Hazel around.
‘Trust me, you’d regret that invite,’ Hazel said. ‘Alma’s got hand, foot and mouth at the moment, she’s covered in spots. Mia said Reggie’s got it too, just what we need with new babies. It’s a full-time job running around with the Glen 20 and keeping the big kids away from them.’
‘Invitation officially retracted.’ Clem opened the doors to Indi and Harriet’s bedrooms and went back to the kitchen. ‘That sounds awful, I hope it nicks off quickly and my guys steer clear of it. With camp this week, I need everyone in tiptop shape.’
‘Are you sure Jack will be right babysitting Indi for two nights? I’d offer, but it’s already a madhouse here, and Mum’saway with her walking group. According to her texts, the Great South-west Walk is even greater than expected.’
‘She was telling me about their plans when their group came in for coffee last week. South-west Victoria’s got some gorgeous rugged coastlines, but I’m glad it’s her hiking them, not me. Jack’ll be fine—he and Lauren know this farmhouse well, and you never know, maybe it’ll be a little taste tester for parenthood.’
Hazel burst out laughing. ‘Nothing like a three-year-old to bring them back to earth.’
‘They’ll be fine, Indi’s not that bad.’ Clem glanced into her daughter’s unicorn-themed bedroom, groaning as she saw the blooms of colourful marker that now covered Indi’s quilt. It wasn’t the first time she’d fallen asleep with a handful of markers and a colouring book on her lap, but evidently these ones had been uncapped. ‘God, you’re right. I won’t be getting nieces or nephews for years. I’ll hide all the markers, vanquish every last skerrick of glitter, put the glues and paints out of reach and they should be fine.’
The conversation moved on to Alma’s new habit of asking ‘who’s that?’ every time they bumped into somebody unfamiliar, which put Hazel in a pickle when she couldn’t recall their name, then Cormac’s latest growth spurt, before circling back toLove on the Land.
‘Oh, and did you see Spencer on telly last night? What a charmer, with that candlelit dinner for the girls, opening doors, bringing them cute lambs to bottle-feed. I like that he’s not kissing everyone on every episode. Some of the other blokes treat it as a real snog-fest, don’t they? Fancy having your in-laws watching you shove your tongue down a different girl’s throat every night. Imagine if your kids watched it years later. No thank you.’
Clem cringed. It didn’t sound like something she wanted to watch either.
Harriet stumbled out of her room, squinting at the morning light and gravitating towards Clem. Her small arms wrapped around Clem’s waist and she burrowed her head into Clem’s skirt.
‘Hazel, I’ve got to run, but maybe next week you can come over?’
‘And we can watch it together? I’ll have to force you to watch the show, one way or another. Surely you’re as curious as me?’
Clem hugged Harriet, then gently propelled her into the bathroom. If she didn’t get through the shower quickly, their whole routine would go out the window and Clem’d be playing catch-up at the cafe all morning.
‘I don’t know. It might feel weird,’ Clem hedged.
‘I for one can’t wait to find out if he’s got his happily ever after with Farmer Emily. He’s a devil for not telling us. As if we’d announce it to the world! I haven’t seen her around, but I read somewhere that the producers make them sign non-disclosure contracts and stay out of sight until the final episode airs, to keep the suspense rolling. Do you think she’s at his house now?’
Clem leaned against the doorframe. She’d promised Spencer she’d keep the show outcome and their kiss a secret, but it was so tempting to share it with someone.
