‘I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?’
There was a long silence. ‘Yeah Spence, and I’m glad you are. Is Clem maybe someone you’d speak to about this? You two seemed pretty close for a while there. Might be a triggering topic for her, though, what with her old man doing himself in.’
Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat. ‘Her dad took his own life?’
‘Sad story, that. The whole family fell apart afterwards. Her mum turned into a religious nut and Jack, her brother, went off the rails. It was only when Clem and Jack came back to Penwarra to live with their grandparents that things started looking up for them again.’
Spencer set down the smoker and replaced the lid of the hive, staring at the bees rushing in and out.
No wonder it hit her hard.
‘You should’ve seen the way she looked at me, Jeff, when she found out about Belle’s death. Like I was the worst of the worst.’
‘You were only supporting Belle. It wasn’t your decision.’
Spencer blew out a breath. If only it was that simple.
‘Maybe I could have convinced Belle to wait and she would’ve got better, or the cancer would have taken her quickly anyway. Maybe if I’d—’
‘Spence,’ Jeff’s voice was soft, cutting into Spencer’s spiral of guilt and doubt. ‘That’s the grief and self-blame talking. It was a terminal diagnosis. You loved Belle, she asked you to help her die with dignity, and you did. You did it because you loved her, not because you wanted to hurry her out of your life. Nobody has a right to judge you for that, or make you feel bad, unless they’ve been in that position. Grief is complex, and Clem lost someone close to her too. She should know better than anyone.’
Spencer exhaled slowly, swiping the tears from his cheeks, trying to force the memories, the enormity of his loss, his guilt, back down. ‘God, I hate talking about this.’
‘Is it worth dredging up the past for Clem? Do you reckon there’s something worth salvaging, if you’ve got opposite stances on this, and neither of you can change what’s been done?’
‘I don’t know,’ Spencer admitted, his stomach hollowing as he imagined a future without Clem.
‘Or is this the thing that’s been holding you back? Maybe if you can talk about Belle, get it all on the table, then everything else will fall into place. Hell, mate, you’ve had to do something not many people ever have to. A little soul searchingand some tough conversations are nothing compared to what you’ve already been through.’
Long after the phone call had ended, Spencer worked on the hives, watching the little pollinators on their daily commute, and turned Jeff’s words around in his head.
The gentle work of cleaning the frames and checking the queen bees was cathartic.
If his friend’s logic was true, and as much as it galled Spencer to admit it, perhaps the bloke was actually right, then maybe this was the thing holding him back. Avoiding talking about Belle had felt easier than sitting with his grief, his guilt, but if he couldn’t put his feelings into words, he stood absolutely no chance of bridging the abyss that had opened up between him and Clem.
She hadn’t loved the TV show, but it hadn’t ruined their relationship like he’d feared it might. He could accept there wouldn’t be babies in a future with Clem, but had he imploded something good with Clem because he wasn’t willing to deal with what was right in front of him?
Would broaching the subject be worth the pain and memories it would undoubtedly unearth, or was that best kept locked behind closed doors?
Packing away his beekeeping equipment, Spencer considered the week ahead. Tomorrow was the dress rehearsal, and if he knew Clem Crossley as well as he thought, then he knew exactly where to find her.
The next day, Clem looked up from the cupcakes she was icing. Another car was pulling over on the side of the road and taking photographs of the sunflower field. There’d been a steady stream of travellers calling into the cafe throughoutthe summer holidays, and while most of them stopped in for coffee, cake, breakfast, brunch or lunch, Isobel West’s suggestion to entice the roadside customers with flowers and field entry, as well as food, had also been a hit.
Setting down the piping bag of yellow icing, Clem scattered chocolate sprinkles on the cakes to complete the sunflower design, and arranged them on the tray.
‘I’ll be back in a second, Kev. Once our little saleswomen have sold this bunch of sweet treats, it’ll be time for the dress rehearsal. Are you sure you’re right closing up?’
Kev gave a quick nod. ‘Go for it. Tell Harri to break a leg from me.’
The small trestle table near the entrance to the sunflower paddock was running short on cut sunflowers as well as cupcakes, Clem noticed.
Money wasn’t the main aim of the stall, which made it the perfect project for her girls, with a little assistance from Isobel. Clem felt prouder than ever seeing Harriet and Indi handling the change, chatting to tourists and spruiking the cafe for those keen to linger.
‘Just in time, Mum!’ Harriet beamed at the new plate of sweets. ‘These customers worked up an appetite walking through the flowers, and Isobel sold the last cupcakes a few minutes ago.’
‘Fresh flowers, fresh cupcakes, happy kids! You’re onto a winning formula here,’ the man said, handing over his cash and accepting a flyer. ‘If you’re selling takeaway coffee next weekend, I’ll be back.’
Isobel, who took great pride in overseeing the stall, passed them a business card and urged them to use the #SunnyCrossFarmGateCafe hashtag on social media.
