Indi woke up bellowing her name, providing the perfect excuse to hang up, but when the customers began filing in later that morning, Clem discovered Hazel wasn’t the only one wondering.
‘I heard Spencer’s chosen two lovers, and they’re both at his farm right now,’ Zelma Scudamore told Clem as she delivered sandwiches to the craft group’s table. It was easy to distinguish their table from all the others, with their outrageously adornedhats and over-the-top fascinators. ‘I could have sworn I saw one of them at the supermarket this week, she was blonder than Marilyn Monroe, definitely not from around here. And when I watched the show, I put two and two together. The other one, the older girl, was at this very cafe, wasn’t she, Clem?’
Clem gave a vague, noncommittal response and turned to serve the next table, only to discover that her grandfather’s pétanque group were equally curious.
‘Our Clemmy will have the inside scoop, her Harriet goes to Spencer’s school, and she’s got the connections with the catering job. If anyone knows what’s what, it’s our Clementine,’ Arthur said, a proud smile on his dial. It was the first time she’d seen football paraphernalia decorating a top hat, and she grinned as she fended off his questions. ‘I’m a vault of silence. Even if I knew any show secrets, my catering jobs would dry up if I blabbed about each client.’
Arthur threw up his hands. ‘Where’s Selina? She’s a lovely girl, maybe she’ll tell her great pop what’s what between sweeps and races.’
Clem squirmed a little at the mention of Selina. Her newest employee was costing her a bomb in broken crockery and bad reviews. How was she going to pull the teenager into line without dividing the family?
‘Are you already regretting sticking your hand up for camp?’
Spencer whipped around. The campsite in the heart of the Grampians Mountain Range was humming with cicadas, birds and the hooting and hollering of excited campers stretching their legs after a four-hour bus ride. As well as the hullabaloo, he’d been busy watching Clem throwing a frisbee with Harriet and her friends, and hadn’t heard Lyndall coming up behind him.
Great look, getting caught gawking at Clem within the first few hours of camp.
He’d have to be more discreet.
‘Nah,’ he said, giving the young teacher a quick grin. ‘Takes more than a little spew to scare me off. You should have seen the Canberra trip, it was like a domino effect—before long half the bus was chucking their guts up. When you’ve been teaching as long as I have, only having two green-gilled kids on the bus is a win.’
Lyndall pointed to a mob of kangaroos hopping lazily past the cabins, clearly accustomed to the comings and goings of excitable school students.
‘How awesome is this spot? Feels like we’re in another country, not just a few hours over the border, though I’d be wary of signing up for a bigger bus trip. I’ve heard horror stories from old hands about bus trips,’ Lyndall said.
‘They don’t have to be like that. I put a lolly and soft drink ban on the Year 10 ski camp with Narradarra Secondary. Winding roads up to the ski fields, and a class of teenagers all razzed up about seeing snow for the first time, the last thing we needed was sugar and artificial flavours added to the mix. Worked a treat.’
‘Get the bus trip over and done with and the rest of the camp’s usually a walk in the park. Or a walk in the mountains, as the case may be,’ Lyndall added, opening her arms and turning her face to the sunshine that rippled through the gum trees. ‘Well, I’m glad we’ve got you instead of Dorky Darrell. That guy’s more invested in his gym routine than the school students. Beats me why they made him PE coordinator when he doesn’t like getting his white sneakers dirty.’
Spencer was impressed; she was astute for someone in her mid-twenties. ‘Apart from bus-ride dramas, I’ve always lovedtaking kids on camps. Helps when we’ve a good mix of teachers and a reliable parent.’
‘I wasn’t sure Clem Crossley would come,’ Lyndall said, and he followed her gaze to the frisbee game on the grass oval. ‘She’s a great mum, always takes feedback onboard, and Harriet’s a bright, kind kid, but we barely see Clem at school. She’s always flat out with her cafe and the little one, Indi. Oh, the stories Harriet’s told—’ Lyndall grinned. ‘Well, you know what it’s like.’
Spencer watched Clem sprint across the grass, shrieking with laughter as she raced Harriet for the frisbee. He knew what Lyndall meant, it was inevitable that teachers—especially in primary school—learned more than parents often realised about their students’ home lives. Stories, both good and bad, were shared at show and tell, in their free-choice writing and in classroom chatter. And while he often blocked out the insights, as he watched Clem and thought about the spark between them, he envied Lyndall’s inside knowledge of the Crossley household.
‘I’d say she’s juggling many roles, and trying to keep them all running smoothly. I’d rather a parent who’s open to feedback and time poor than one that’s a pain in the backside and treats the school volunteer roles as a full-time paid job.’
‘I’m with you there.’
Lyndall left to help the stragglers still unpacking in their cabins, and after a quick check of his watch, Spencer went to the shower block.
‘All good in here, boys?’ Spencer called out, relieved when he received a slightly more lively ‘yep’ from the boy who’d lost his breakfast at the rest stop.
‘We’re all good, Mr H. A quick shower for Lachie and we’ll be sweet,’ said Lachie’s buddy, who was perched on thebench seat in the middle of the utilitarian room. ‘Don’t start the activities without us.’
Confident they were sorted, Spencer’s next stop was the laundry. By the time he’d put Lachie’s soiled clothes through a quick wash and stuck them in the dryer, Lyndall had blown the whistle and sorted the students into groups.
Clem emerged from the cabin next to his and stood beside him, leaning back against the big mountain boulders to soak up the sunshine.
She tapped her pocket, with its phone-shaped bulge. ‘This lack of reception is like the digital detox I keep attempting but never stick to. What am I going to do in my spare time if I can’t doomscroll?’
Spencer laughed. ‘Spare time? I can tell this is your first school camp, Miss Crossley. I was just chatting to Lyndall, she really appreciates you coming.’
Clem shrugged, taking an extra step away from him as the young teacher joined them. ‘I’m glad I could come. I’m lucky to have my brother holding the fort back home.’
‘Youarelucky.’ Lyndall gave a heavy sigh. ‘I had to put my cat in a cattery because my dropkick boyfriend dumped me last week, of all weeks. He knew it was a huge month for me, with camp and reports and the end-of-year craziness about to ramp up. Just up and left, the bastard, as if the last two years meant nothing.’
Clem cringed. ‘I’m really sorry to hear that.’
