Man Drought (6 page)

As they drove the short distance, Charlie spoke. ‘You won’t tell your mother about my forgetfulness back there, will you?’

Gibson frowned. He’d not thought for a moment that Charlie forgetting a shopping list had any significance, but now he saw his granddad’s fear that it could be used as ammunition in the fight Gibson’s mum had started recently.

‘Course not. Why would I? If I even remember to write a shopping list, I forget to bring it with me more times than I remember.’

‘Thanks,’ Charlie answered tersely. ‘Moving back to the city – into one of those nursing prisons – would kill me. Especially now trade has started to pick up at the pub.’

That was Gibson’s cue to ask after the new owner and her ideas, but he purposefully didn’t take the hint. He hoped she’d be a fad that didn’t last long. Luckily, their conversation was cut short as Gibson turned the ute into the pub.

‘You coming in for one last meal cooked by Trevor?’ Charlie asked.

Gibson nodded. ‘I’ve got an Apex meeting later, so I’ll get an early counter meal.’

Gibson gave Charlie his meal order and then slunk away to the far corner of the dining room to wait. Imogen had been blessedly absent when he’d arrived and yet as he sat, he found himself glancing towards the bar every few minutes. Was he hoping for a sighting? He shook his head, determining that he was simply
hungry and hoping Trevor wouldn’t take long to cook his burger.

About five minutes after he arrived, Guy and Wazza came in. They didn’t see him, but headed to the bar and ordered a drink from Charlie. He said something and then Gibson’s mates turned, grinned and waved. Once Charlie handed over their beers, Guy and Wazza approached.

‘Great minds think alike,’ Wazza said, slumping into a chair. He took a long gulp and let out a satisfied sigh. ‘We wanted to have one last burger before Trev deserts us.’

Guy chuckled. ‘I think it’s less about Trevor’s cooking and more about Wazza wanting to check out the new publican.
Again
.’

Warren narrowed his eyes at Guy. ‘Hey, I’m not the only one.’

Just great
. So much for a quiet dinner.

A shadow fell over the table. ‘Evening boys.’

Gibson didn’t need to turn his head to know the voice belonged to Imogen. It washed over him like a long soak in the tub – even her shadow appealed.

‘One Majestic burger with the works,’ she said chirpily.

As a plate almost completely hidden by hamburger landed in front of him, Gibson knew he had to look up into her eyes. He did it quickly. ‘Thanks.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Imogen replied, but she didn’t go.

It was the first time they’d spoken since he’d interrupted her morning run a few days ago, and he couldn’t think of one damn thing to say. Guy and Wazza appeared too tongue-tied to get a word out either.

Imogen didn’t seem to have their tongue paralysis. ‘Are you all here for the Apex meeting?’

‘Aye aye, captain.’ Wazza actually saluted and Gibson cringed.

Guy nodded. ‘Sure are. Why don’t you pop in and meet everyone if you have the time? We’re always looking for good ideas to throw the club behind.’

‘Sounds great.’ Imogen ran her hand through her hair and glanced at the bar. Gibson took the second to glance down her body, his breath catching at the sight of her skinny-fit, black trousers.

‘I suppose I’d better be getting back,’ she said. ‘You boys just holler if you need anything.’ She met Gibson’s eyes briefly, making his insides feel as if someone had struck a match against them, and then they both quickly looked away.

‘Oh, we will,’ Warren promised, his eyes wide as he nodded. Gibson resisted the urge to swat the side of his friend’s head. When Imogen was out of earshot, Warren blew air between his lips. ‘Wow. Ain’t she just the best thing that ever happened around here?’

Gibson wasn’t sure about that, but he did know this: as long as she
was
around, he wasn’t going to get any peace – unless he battened down the hatches at Roseglen and stopped coming into town altogether.

The day before Cathy and Trevor were due to set off on their big adventure, a backpacker barmaid and Imogen’s chef from Perth arrived by bus and car respectively.

Pauli, the chef, had worked at the Subiaco wine bar when Imogen first started there all those years ago. She hadn’t seen her in a long while, but a mutual friend put them back in contact when he’d heard Imogen was looking for workers. Pauli had recently been through a messy divorce – Imogen vowed not to mention this to Karen – and also wanted to escape the city and all the nasty memories there.

The backpacker was more of a lucky dip, but Imogen liked her immediately. Caliopa was a tall Mexican beauty who, although only twenty-one, was almost entirely covered in tattoos and looked like she’d been a body builder in a previous life. Within seconds of Imogen trying to pronounce her name properly, she told her not to bother because she always went by Cal.

After Imogen showed her new employees to their rooms, she welcomed them in the pub with a drink. She’d asked Charlie and Karen to join them as she’d planned on conducting her first official team meeting. It was about three o’clock in the afternoon and the only other person in the pub was a contractor currently staying at the hotel. He nursed a lone beer at the end of the bar and stared listlessly ahead at the rows of alcohol, as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Cathy and Trevor were still around, so Cathy promised to man the bar while Imogen talked to her new staff.

‘Thanks so much for coming, everyone.’ Imogen smiled around the table. ‘I want to welcome Cal and Pauli to Gibson’s Find and thank Charlie and Karen for standing by a newbie. I want to be a fair and fun boss, and I hope you’ll all feel like you can come to me with suggestions or concerns at any time.’

‘I’ll drink to that.’ Charlie raised his glass of orange juice and took a sip. Everyone followed suit.

‘Thanks Charlie.’ Imogen placed her glass back on the table. ‘I’ll be making a few changes over the next few months – updating the decor, renovating a bit, and we’ll also be reinventing the menu.’ She looked to Pauli. ‘I’ve worked with Pauli in the past and I guarantee her cooking will make you all drool. The menu will be pretty much her domain, but I know Pauli will be open to suggestions. My vision for the food is hearty, home-style meals like you used to get at Grandma’s, but with Pauli’s modern twist.’

‘Sounds like the best of both worlds.’ Karen grinned.

Pauli nodded. ‘That’s what we’re hoping for.’

‘It’s great that we’re all on the same page.’ Imogen consulted her mental checklist and continued. ‘My main focus is going to be customer service. I want us to offer the kind of service that keeps people coming back and gets them talking.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ Cal piped up. ‘Talking is my greatest talent.’

‘Fabulous.’ Imogen smiled at her youngest but very enthusiastic employee before continuing. ‘As well as serving the locals, I also hope to widen our clientele to include more travellers, and for that reason we’ll be offering a larger lunch menu. I’d like to get some events off the ground too – things like quiz nights and bingo – that might bring different people through the door. In time, I hope we’ll have to hire even more staff.’

‘I’ll drink to that.’ Charlie lifted his glass and they all followed suit again.

‘Anyone have any questions?’ Imogen looked to each of her employees.

‘When do we start?’ Cal asked with a grin.

Everyone laughed and Pauli leaned close and whispered something to the new barwoman. Imogen took another sip of her drink and let out a satisfied sigh. It was all falling into place.

Early the next morning, the five of them waved goodbye to Cathy and Trevor, then immediately turned back inside, rolled up their sleeves and began spring-cleaning the building which Imogen guessed hadn’t had a proper scrub in over a decade. Pauli wasn’t rostered on until later in the day but she insisted on starting early.

‘I’ve already visited all the shops in the main street,’ she said, raising her hands up in the air. ‘What else am I supposed to do?’

Imogen understood where she was coming from – Gibson’s Find didn’t exactly offer an abundance of leisure activities. She hoped her two out-of-town employees wouldn’t up and leave before the ink had dried on their contracts.

Pushing that worry aside, Imogen focused on her long to do list.

About two hours later, Pauli appeared in the doorway between the bar and kitchen. ‘Can you come and have a look at the menu?
If you approve, I’ll have Cal print them off and laminate them ready for this evening.’

Imogen glanced up from where she was wiping the skirting boards around the bar. ‘Is there taste-testing involved?’

Pauli laughed. ‘Not this time.’

‘Pity.’ Her stomach rumbled in disappointment. ‘I’m on my way.’

Tonight would be their first true night of business. As lovely as Cathy and Trevor were, Imogen hadn’t felt like this was real until she’d seen their caravan fading into the distance. They had run the pub without a changing anything in fifteen years, and she couldn’t wait to get stuck in.

She smiled at the delicious aromas that hit her as she entered the kitchen. ‘Are you sure there’s no tasting necessary?’

Cal, who stood at the stainless steel counter chopping vegetables, piped up. ‘Sorry, I’ve been official taster today. I know it’s not in my contract, but I’m more than happy to suffer for the greater good. And Pauli’s pasta sauce is definitely good.’

Imogen pretended to pout. ‘Fine, show me these menus, then.’ She leaned over a clean, clear bench and read over the menu Pauli had placed there. Tempura fish and hand-cut, triple-cooked chips with aioli; vegetarian wellington with sweet potato mash; 8oz sirloin steak with hand-cut chips, confit field mushroom and béarnaise or pepper sauce; rigatoni with pork and fennel sausage; gourmet stuffed potatoes; bitter chocolate tart with homemade vanilla bean ice-cream … the delicious list went on. It was exactly the kind of food she wanted – hearty meals with an original flair. Something hardworking country men would be happy to get their teeth into. She had complete faith in Pauli’s ability to make it happen.

She only hoped they’d get a few more bodies through the door that evening and wouldn’t have too much wastage.

As if reading her mind, Pauli glanced up from the menus. ‘Any idea of numbers for tonight?’

‘Nope.’ She hoped they’d have the kind of numbers she’d seen the evening Cathy and Paul had surprised her with the cake. But as much as she hated to admit it, most of those men had come for a stickybeak. There hadn’t been such a full house since.

Imogen planned to change that, and she planned on Pauli’s sensational cooking playing a major part. From what she could tell, there was only one reason (apart from beer) why the ramshackle pub had any patrons: Trevor had provided delicious meals which – due to the lack of females in town – not many of them were getting at home.

‘Have you thought about themed food nights?’ asked Cal, putting down her knife and coming to stand beside them. ‘I’d be happy to oversee a Mexican night.’

‘Can you cook?’ Pauli asked.

‘I can cook you a Mexican soup that will have your eyes rolling in the back of your head. In a good way.’

Pauli chuckled. ‘That I’d like to taste. And maybe, if it’s a success, I’ll get my mum up here to help run a Croatian night.’

‘I love it.’ Imogen felt the heaviness that had been sitting in her stomach all morning start to lift. With such fabulous staff on her team, how could she fail? ‘Let me talk to Charlie about it. He’ll know if it’s something the locals would go for.’

Charlie may as well have lived in the pub for all the time he spent there. He was technically only a part-timer, but he always seemed to be there when something needed to be done or Imogen needed a listening ear. And as much as the patrons ribbed him for his forgetfulness and the terry towelling hat that appeared to be glued to his head, she knew they all adored him. Such a smiley, happy man; so different to his grandson.

She paused at the door and looked back. ‘Oh, and the menus are perfect. Print away.’

She found Charlie in the dining room in a precarious position at the top of a ladder, re-hanging the curtains she’d taken down and
washed yesterday. She rushed forward, imagining the stern words Gibson would have for her if he saw Charlie at such heights.

‘You don’t have to do that.’ She sounded harsher than she’d meant to.

‘I know I don’t, but …’ He looked down at her as if he’d forgotten what he was going to say. He swayed a little.

‘Charlie, come down right now. We’ll get someone else to do this later. Right now I need to pick your brain.’

Her heart rate slowed when he began to descend the ladder. At the bottom, he studied her for a moment and then smiled wistfully. ‘You remind me of my Elsie, you know?’

It was the first time she’d seen something akin to sadness taint the sparkle in his eyes. She took his arm and led him over to a quiet table in the corner. Cal, now finished in the kitchen, had the broom out and was about to give the floorboards in the bar a once-over.

‘Do you mind bringing two coffees in here?’ Imogen called.

Cal smiled. ‘Of course, right away.’

As she settled in the chair opposite Charlie, she asked, ‘Was Elsie your wife?’

He grinned as if a match had struck and lit him all up inside. ‘Ah yes, and what a darling ball-and-chain she was.’ This time his eyes glistened and Imogen recognised his heartbreak, because it mirrored her own.

‘When did she die?’

‘When she was twenty-five.’

Imogen blinked. She hadn’t been expecting that.

‘She died giving birth to Gibson’s father, Harry. If we were in the city maybe someone could have saved her, although maybe not. Sixty years ago, medical miracles weren’t as common as they are now.’

A lump formed in Imogen’s throat. She wanted to reach out, squeeze Charlie’s hand and tell him about Jamie, share it with someone who would understand her pain more than anyone else
she knew. But something stopped her. She didn’t want to make this about her when Charlie so obviously wanted to talk.

‘What was she like?’ she asked instead.

Charlie grinned again. ‘She was a firecracker – in looks as well as personality. Her hair was even redder than yours.’

Imogen absentmindedly twisted some strands around her index finger.

‘I came to Gibson’s Find as a young teacher, full of ideals about moulding the next generation. Elsie was a cocky’s daughter through and through. She had two young sisters at the school, and although she believed in their education – or so she said – the farm always came first. Her mother died young – giving birth to the third sister – and Elsie became a surrogate parent.’

He paused and smiled wistfully before continuing. ‘Often she’d get her sisters to school late, sometimes she wouldn’t even bother at all. She thought they were needed more on the farm. It really bugged me.’

‘So, it wasn’t love at first sight, then?’

Charlie snorted. ‘It was pure irritation as first sight, that’s what it was. She’d waltz into the schoolroom in trousers and boots and a man’s shirt like she owned the joint. I wanted to have words with her about her lack of regard for her sisters’ education, but I’d barely ever seen a woman in pants before. Got me tongue-tied and flustered every time I saw her. I hated her for it.’

He blushed a little at the recollection and Imogen smiled, waiting for him to share more.

‘One Friday, after the girls hadn’t been in school all week, I decided to go out to Roseglen – that’s the family farm, named after Elsie’s parents – and have it out with her.’

‘Good for you. Education is important.’

Charlie snorted again. ‘I guess it is, but Elsie quickly changed my views on a lot of things. By the time I rode my bike out there
– fifteen k’s, mind you – I was sweaty and aggro and ready to have words with her.’

He paused while Cal delivered two mugs filled with steaming coffee to the table. Imogen thanked her and then wrapped her hands around the mug, eager to hear more. Jenna had called her a soppy, hopeless romantic on more than one occasion, and there was more than a little truth to the accusation.

While Imogen sipped, Charlie continued, almost as if he were reminiscing to himself.

‘I arrived at the homestead to find Elsie bent over the rear end of a sheep, her hands stuck up its backside, tugging away like the animal had eaten a gold nugget and she needed to pull it out.’

Imogen giggled at Charlie’s description.

‘It was a pet sheep, apparently.’ He shook his head. ‘Somehow it had gotten in with the rams and gotten itself pregnant. Elsie’s little sisters were running back and forth from the house bringing cold cloths to lie upon the ewe’s head. It was as bizarre a sight as ever I’d seen. Elsie was talking to the old girl like she was a human in labour.

‘Well, I just stood there like a stunned mullet – I’d completely forgotten why I’d come and was mesmerised by the first birth I’d ever been privy to. After a while, she looked up, sweat covering her rosy-cheeked face. She blew some tearaway hair out of her eyes and glared at me. “If you’re going to stand there staring, the least you could do is lend a hand. Lord knows there aren’t many uses for a man, but this baby’s stuck and I could do with a bit of strength to pull her out.”‘ Charlie chuckled to himself.

Imogen could almost guess what was coming next.

‘We got it out too,’ Charlie said, pride shining through his words, even all these years later. ‘Elsie checked the wee lamb over and when she was satisfied it was breathing, she laid it down next to its mother. Then she turned back to me, placed her bloodstained hands against my clean-shirted arms, leaned forward and kissed me. On the lips!’

Charlie turned the colour of a fire engine, all the way up his sideburns.

‘Ooh,’ said Imogen, tickled by the thought. She couldn’t imagine his grandson ever getting so flustered over a woman, especially not decades after the event.

‘And when she’d finished – kissing me, that is – she looked right into my eyes and said, “Well, I may have just found another good use for a man.” Then she kissed me again.’