The Boy In the Olive Grove Page 9

  That got me thinking.

  I rang Beverly at the bank. ‘Could Dad sell the land next to the factory? It must be worth quite a bit.’

  The short answer, she told me, was no, thanks to a complicated title that would take time and money to untangle. ‘There’s nothing to stop you leasing it out, though.’

  ‘But what for? Who would want it?’ I aimed to sound like a businesswoman, not a whiney kid. I sounded like the kid.

  ‘Think laterally. Brainstorm ideas. Don’t forget to see me on Friday.’

  ‘Thanks for nothing,’ I said — after I’d hung up.

  I took myself outside to talk to the men about moving on to sorting the woodroom once they’d finished the fence. It would take the three of them about an hour, tops, but it was the best I could come up with. I also ran Beverly’s suggestion about leasing the land past them. ‘We’ll do a brainstorming session this afternoon. Have a think in the meantime.’

  As I left I heard Clint mutter, ‘What’s she think we are, bloody school kids?’

  I walked right back and eyeballed him. ‘No. I think you’re a bunch of damn good workers. You want your jobs to disappear? Fine. Don’t turn up at 3.30.’

  He grabbed a plank, holding it up to hide behind. ‘I hear you, boss! We’ll be there.’

  ‘Good. Three-thirty. After you’ve sorted the woodroom.’

  I probably wasn’t meant to hear his next comment, Christ! She is one scary dame! So I pretended I hadn’t.

  My day dragged on its way. Bernie was in utter heaven constructing a complicated gate. I gave him the thumbs up and hoped it would take him months to finish. I retreated to the computer, but steered clear of all past-life weirdnesses.

  By mid-afternoon the place was immaculate, with the fence stained and the woodroom tidy. I set up the tearoom for the brainstorming session, with a sheet of A3 and a couple of pens for each of us. I’d bought felts too, because I like colour when I brainstorm. My own brilliant idea was scheduled to appear at 3.40.

  The guys came in, laughing and shoving each other. Hilarious. Back to school. Oooh look, miss! Felts! I bags the red one.

  ‘Sit down.’ I didn’t raise my voice, but they sure heard the bite in it.

  They sat, with Clint staring at his paper as if it were toxic. Oh god, was he dyslexic?

  ‘Guys,’ I said, ‘this is serious. We desperately need income. The first loan repayment is due the second week in January. I don’t care what method you use for this. Some people work better with pictures, some with words. But we’re all going to do it and keep at it for fifteen minutes before we stop. Get down everything that comes into your heads. Doesn’t matter how mad you think it is.’

  Clint looked pointedly at the kettle. I didn’t respond, it being now one minute before my brilliant bribe was due to make its appearance.

  With a great show of getting stuck in, they picked up their heads, shoulders and pens. The door squeaked. Man, those pens hit the table with record speed.

  ‘Lisette!’ Maurice said. ‘What are you doing here?’

  I pretended ignorance.

  She held out a wide flat box.

  ‘If one of you guys takes this,’ she said, ‘I’ll get the rest from the van.’

  By the time she got back fifteen seconds later, those guys had each hoovered up a sausage roll, and Clint had done a quick sketch in orange felt on his paper.

  She put down a carry tray of coffee, then handed them round. She glanced at the table. ‘But what’s going on here? School in, is it? And why have you drawn a donkey, Clint?’

  Oh gee, thanks, Lisette.

  ‘Use your eyes, woman,’ he said. ‘That’s a goat, commonly known as a goat-a-mower. For our lawn out there.’ He tipped his head in the general direction.

  She laughed hard enough to set her spare tyres wobbling. ‘Stick to the day job, old man. You’ll never make a farmer if you don’t know the difference between a goat and a donkey.’ She looked at me, her eyes bright. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘We’re trying to come up with ideas for how to use the land. Make a bit of a profit from it.’ Suddenly, it seemed a stupid idea. The men were completely out of their comfort zones. Nothing would come of it, I could see that now.

  Lisette sat down in a hurry. ‘Why didn’t you tell me? I’ve been wanting that land for ever! I can’t buy it, I know that. Happy to lease it, though.’

  I gaped at her, Clint slapped his thigh and bellowed with laughter. He screwed up his paper and lobbed it at, but not in, the bin.

  ‘You do?’ My voice squeaked. I didn’t care.

  ‘Absolutely,’ she said. ‘For my coffee-cart. The van I use for big events — Fieldays and such like. Hate it just sitting there for the rest of the time. Got a nephew who’s a barista. He’ll jump at the chance.’

  I was grinning at her, my face feeling like it was splitting at the seams, when Alton said, ‘Charlie won’t agree, Bess. He’s got a bit of a thing about that space.’

  Lisette’s face fell but I said, ‘It’s my decision. I agree to lease the land to you, Lisette. I guess we’d better make it legal though. I’ll ask Alan Stubbs to sort it. Okay with you?’

  She looked uncertain but hopeful. ‘Yes, of course. Except — can you do this? Legally, I mean?’

  ‘Yep, Dad’s made me a partner. I’m only here till he’s ready to come back to work.’

  ‘So you’re the boss, yeah?’

  ‘She’s tough,’ Maurice said.

  ‘She says jump,’ said Alton, ‘and we say, how high?’

  ‘She’s doing okay,’ said the surprising Clint.

  Lisette took her empty box, and walked out with a spring in her step.

  ‘Brainstorming all finished?’ Alton asked.

  ‘There’s nothing more we can do now. Go home, and let’s hope like crazy that Eddy picks up a job or two.’

  ‘We’ll come in tomorrow as usual?’ Clint asked.

  ‘Yes. We’ll hear what Eddy’s got to tell us and take it from there.’

  They left looking a fraction more positive than the day before. I collected up the A3, all the while pondering on the serendipity of small town connections. If I hadn’t decided to bribe the guys with food, if I’d gone to a café and not the bakery, if Lisette had sent her offsider … But everything had fallen into place. Was Iris brewing a spell?

  ALAN STUBBS ACTED as if I hadn’t signed the partnership agreement. ‘I’m afraid it’s a no-go, Bess. Charlie won’t agree.’

  I breathed deeply and exhaled slowly. ‘He doesn’t have to agree. I’m in charge. It’s my decision.’

  Silence, then he said, ‘Very well. It’s a sensible course of action. I’ll attend to the paperwork. But I advise you to tell your father about it.’

  I picked up the phone again and rang Iris. ‘Is Dad strong enough to be able to yell at me, do you reckon?’

  ‘Depends how big a yell. Why, what’ve you done?’ It sounded like she was getting ready to yell too.

  ‘Leased out the side lawn.’ I shut up, letting her join the dots — make Dad mad, or get a chance to save her home.

  ‘Come to dinner,’ she said. ‘We’ll go to the hospital first and tell him together. And Bess, I think you’ve done the right thing.’

  I let out a breath. ‘Thanks.’

  She hadn’t mentioned Gwennie, and I didn’t remind her.

  Chapter Twelve

  THAT JOURNEY to the hospital was dislocating. I felt I was swinging between a whole collection of different personas. I was Bess in charge of a factory. I was the daughter who never measured up. I was the sister who’d driven her brother into non-communication-land. As well, my witch-burning self was always there, menacing at the edges of my mind, along with the nagging mystery as to the identity of the one presence in my life capable of giving me fleeting joy: olive grove guy. Iris didn’t talk much and I wished she would. I needed distraction.

  Once we got to the hospital, it wasn’t the easiest visit with Dad. He was sitting up, all bright and perky.
We got the my two favourite girls greeting, then immediately: ‘What’s new, Bess?’

  He looked so hopeful it hurt my heart. I gave him progress reports on the clean-up, the fence and the gate, but had to finish with the news of Eddy’s failure so far to get any orders. He did his best to keep up the perkiness. ‘Never mind. You’ve given it a good try. Couldn’t ask for more.’

  ‘We’re not beaten yet, Dad.’ I glanced at Iris, who gave a small nod. ‘You’re not going to like this, but I’ve leased out the lawn to Lisette from the bakery.’

  Iris held his hand and I swear I could see calming vibes emanating from her. He frowned, took a few deep breaths — and said nothing. The three of us sat there in silence until he asked, ‘Any news of Hadleigh?’

  ‘No. Not a thing.’

  We chatted about nothing much after that — their neighbour’s puppy, the tennis club — and left as soon as Dad started looking tired.

  ‘Is he okay?’ I asked Iris. ‘I was expecting an explosion.’

  ‘I’ve told him I know about the money,’ she said. ‘I could see him thinking about that. Weighing up if the lease agreement might save our home. It’s hard for him, Bess.’

  I knew it was. I hated seeing him lying there, being powerless, being a supplicant. ‘If it was Hadleigh doing all this it wouldn’t be hard. He’d be happy about it.’

  ‘He’s grieving for the loss of that dream. He knows you won’t stay once he’s well again. I think he’s in a quandary — he wants you to save the business. Desperately, he wants that. But if you do, then he’ll have to run it, and right now it all feels too much.’

  I thought about that while we went down in the lift. I said, ‘If Dad wants a successor, Eddy’s his man.’

  ‘Let’s not worry about it now.’

  But I couldn’t switch off that easily. ‘Can I ask Eddy to eat with us again?’

  ‘Of course.’

  So easy with Iris. So freaking strange too.

  Now there was just Mum to deal with.

  I screwed up my face, holding the phone out from my ear, waiting for the ice-storm while I explained I’d not be home for tea again. It was a doozy. ‘You’re a thoughtless, ungrateful girl, Bess Grey. I cannot understand you and I cannot begin to comprehend what I’ve done to deserve such treatment. Why you continue to put your father before me, I’ll never know …’ On and on she went.

  ‘I’ll see you later,’ I said at last, and cut her off. ‘Aaaargh!’

  ‘Ask Gwennie to give you some strategies to deal with her,’ Iris said. ‘She can see you on Friday at ten. In her office in Auckland, where you have friends you might like to visit, if I’m not mistaken?’ She slid me a particularly witchy grin.

  THE HEARTY (ORGANIC) beef casserole Iris had in the slow-cooker smelled divine. Eddy had better not be late or I’d eat his share. I was busting to know how he’d got on. He’d sounded cheerful enough on the phone, but mention food to a guy and he’ll always be cheerful.

  Iris put a pot of spuds on to cook and I created a salad of greens, flowers and herbs. ‘Better a dish of herbs where love is than scoff a fatted calf with a bitch,’ I muttered. Okay, so not an exactly accurate quote, whichever bible you chose, but Iris looked pleased about the love bit.

  ‘I feel terribly sorry for her,’ she said.

  ‘Huh! Why? She feels sorry enough for herself. She doesn’t need a back-up team. She’s never like this with Hadleigh. But me! I can’t do a thing right.’

  Iris handed me the scrap bucket. ‘Go and throw these at the compost heap. Get rid of that negative energy.’

  I snatched it, and used up more negative energy in stomping to the compost, where I hurled each scrap as far and hard as I could. When I got back to the kitchen, Iris took my shoulders and gave them a firm shake. ‘Now listen to me, Bess. This is bad for you. You must ask Gwennie to help you cope. You can’t let your mum get to you like this or it’ll end up destroying you.’

  I pulled away. ‘I thought Gwennie was going to douse the flames in my head. I’m not doing another trip into spooksville about Mum, so don’t even think about it.’

  Iris didn’t react to my anger — a revelation all on its own. ‘You don’t have to. Gwennie can simply give you strategies. She won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. See how you get on with her. If you don’t like her, we’ll find somebody else.’

  I found I was crying. Something to do with Iris being motherly, strong and — I had to admit it — loving. She threw the roll of paper towels at me. ‘Mop up. That’s Eddy arriving.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Look, Bess, I should have done more to protect you when you were little. But mostly you were at school, and, well …’

  I scrubbed my face. ‘Don’t talk about it. We’re one crazy, mixed-up family.’

  Eddy came in. Actually, he bounced in. ‘Two orders, boss! Two of the suckers! A dining table and an extension table for a boardroom, and can we deliver before Christmas? Yes sir, we can deliver!’

  We went berserk then, the three of us dancing around the kitchen, waving our arms in the air and yahooing. ‘Ring the men, Eddy. Iris, do you want to give Dad a call?’

  ‘Bless you. I’d love to.’

  ‘You’re the man, Eddy,’ I said. ‘Sit down. Dinner’s ready. Don’t know about you, but I could eat an extension table.’

  We didn’t even try to get the grins off our faces. And when Iris came back from talking with Dad she had a bottle of wine in her hand. ‘Here’s to new beginnings,’ she said, pouring glasses for each of us.

  I made mine last all evening. Iris offered me another, making no comment when I declined.

  Then the phone went again. It was Dad wanting to talk to me. ‘No, Charlie,’ said Iris. ‘You have to let Bess run the show. Stop meddling. Go to sleep.’ She hung up. ‘He’s worrying about Bernie now. Wanted me to tell you the tables have to have turned legs.’

  Eddy’s excitement hit the floor and I damn near hit him. When would these guys realise I was not my father? I faced him, sitting on my hands to be sure I didn’t reach out and yank him upright. ‘We use your designs. We give the customers what they want.’

  ‘What’ll you tell Bernie?’

  I shrugged. ‘Dunno yet. He’s busy with the gate for a while anyway. But get one thing clear, Eddy — we’re not going to send the place down the tubes for want of some lateral thinking.’

  He blinked at that, but said, ‘I hear you, boss. Give you a ride home?’

  ‘I’ve got the car.’ Should have tagged thanks onto the end of that. Didn’t feel like it. I wanted to bellow at him Get on board! Have some confidence in me, why can’t you?

  ‘Glass of wine. You can’t drive,’ Iris said.

  Ah yes, zero blood alcohol for kiddies of my tender age. ‘I could stay here.’

  ‘If you want,’ she said, leaving the decision up to me, as was her usual trick.

  Eddy’s eyes swivelled from me, to her, then back to me.

  ‘So tempting,’ I said. ‘But so much pain to follow.’

  Eddy got up and handed me the tablet. ‘Here. Don’t forget this. Let’s get on the road, eh. Work tomorrow.’

  I didn’t talk to him on the way to Mum’s. When we stopped, he said, ‘You mad at me?’

  ‘Steaming.’

  ‘Why?’ He sounded hurt. Good job.

  I let him have it, both barrels, though I was aware that some of my rage was residual Mum-fury. ‘You guys all need to be behind me. Every time I do something different from the way Dad does it, you’re ready to give up.’ I snapped the seatbelt undone. ‘Think about it.’ I slammed the car door, then pulled it open again. ‘And by the way, I’m stoked about the orders. Better than I dared hope for.’

  He leaned over to hold the door open. ‘Thanks for having such confidence in me, boss.’

  ‘Touché! See you tomorrow.’

  I went inside to the Mum storm, which escalated when she caught sight of the tablet. It was her property and I was not to use it in any way t
o help That Man.

  ‘Don’t speak about my father like that,’ I said and stalked off to bed, still with the tablet under my arm.

  I knew I should check on the bids on the tables, but I’d had it up to my eyebrows with the business for one day. I needed a dose of sanity.

  There was nothing from Hadleigh, but Clodagh and Maddy were on line.

  I need distraction! Toxic mother overload!!

  Maddy: Going caving tomorrow. Nettlebed!! Yay, been wanting to do that for yonks.

  Clodagh: Gran wants me to make a YouTube vid of her making lace hearts. Good for Valentine’s Day she reckons. Likes to be prepared, does Gran.

  Maddy: Report on Bess-world please!

  Dad & factory improving. Mum — you don’t wanna hear. Coming to Auck to escape. Fri + weekend. Need a bed. Clo?

  Clodagh: Great! Plenty of room. Parents in Argentina again.

  I logged off, thinking about our so different lives. Maddy’s family farmed near Reefton. Clodagh’s parents owned businesses in Auckland, South America and Malaysia. They were out of the country a lot and felt it was too much of an imposition to leave her and her twin brothers with their grandmother, hence boarding school. It was unusual for them to be away during the holidays.

  The previous night’s lack of sleep caught up with me in a rush. I turned out the light. Please, let there be no return of flames and burning flesh. I didn’t want the olive grove either. I didn’t need taunting with a happiness I could only dream of.

  Meantime, there were three nights to get through before Gwennie could sort out my head. I dreaded having to do it, but the uncertainty of when those images, or the olive grove ones, would strike again wasn’t too flash either. The devil or the deep blue sea. This time, I was opting for the deep blue sea.