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Authors: Margaret Clark

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BOOK: The Search
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‘She’s playing hard to get,’ said Nathan, attacking his food with gusto. ‘Coming on to me one minute and playing coy the next.’

‘Oh, in ya boot,’ Flick called back over her shoulder, as a little red car came zooming up and stopped with a screech of brakes and a swirl of dust.

Roxie had arrived!

She swung herself jauntily out of the car and
sauntered into the store, dark hair swinging round her shoulders, and her black shift dress split almost to her hips, revealing long sleek legs.

‘Hi, Mum. I’m here.’ She gave Kay a kiss.

‘Ugh, you smell like stale beer!’

‘Yeah, well I was out last night.’

‘You shouldn’t be driving when you’ve been drinking!’ Kay was furious.

‘Lighten up, Mum. I’m here, aren’t I?’ Roxie gave a delicate yawn. ‘Don’t s’pose you could make me some brekky?’

‘Greasies?’ asked Flick before she could stop herself. ‘Nathan swears by them to cure a hangover.’

‘I don’t serve anything greasy in this store!’ Kay fizzled like bacon sizzling on a hotplate.

‘Nathan’s here? Good. I’ll have a black coffee and a bottle of Feeling Seedy. Oh, and some toast with Vegemite.’

Roxie swanned outside to sit with Nathan and his mate, without waiting to be introduced. Flick grimaced at Liz. If this was the famous Roxie she seemed to be one big pain in the neck! Liz served customers with their Saturday morning papers — thick, bulky and half a forest each — and the usual milk and bread, while Kay made her daughter’s breakfast.

‘You can give her this Berroca and a couple of
aspirins too,’ said Kay grimly as she shoved the toast through the servery with the pills on a dish. ‘I need her to work, not mess about. Today is going to be really busy.’

Just as she said that, Angela came purring through the door sporting platform sneakers, a short black mini that just covered her butt, purple bra-top and a scratch down one side of her face which she’d unsuccessfully tried to cover with make-up.

‘Where the hell do you think you’re going, dressed like that?’ snapped Kay, as Angela sashayed round the counter and the customers’ eyes boggled.

‘Here. To work.’

‘I said
sneakers
.’

‘These
are
sneakers!’

Kay sighed. The shop was rapidly filling and she had only two competent assistants at the moment. Roxie would take an hour to fire up, minimum, and Angela was a good worker if she was given jobs that she liked. Kay was no fool. She’d seen Angela in action. Right now, she couldn’t afford to have her quit.

‘Okay, but tomorrow wear flat sneakers, a T-shirt and either shorts or a longer skirt. Now, put on your apron and get to work, please.’

Liz looked at Flick. ‘Did you see the scratch? Oh, I didn’t tell you, my brother called in late at the party
and two girls were bitch-fighting so full-on that Cyril had to hose them down. I wonder who —’

‘Girls! There’re customers waiting!’ Kay’s sharp voice sliced through the conversation.

‘Oh. Yeah. Sorry.’

Flick grabbed the toast and coffee and, pausing only to get a bottle of Feeling Seedy from the fridge, she trundled it all out to Roxie, who was flirting happily with Nathan and his mate.

‘Number twenty-eight?’ she said sweetly, plonking down the food in front of Roxie but looking at Nathan as she said it.

‘I didn’t think we did numbers with brekkies,’ said Roxie.

‘Oh, we’re very interested in keeping scores round here! By the way, I’m Flick.’

Roxie nodded but was too involved with her toast to answer.

‘One Flick and ya gone,’ said Nathan’s mate, rolling his eyes.

Any more smart-arse remarks and I’ll give
you
the flick. With my fist, thought Flick to herself as she walked off. Going past Roxie’s dust-covered car she noticed that someone had been busy writing a message on the rear window.

G
O
R
OCKIN’ WITH
R
OXIE
.

CHAPTER 8

As it was Saturday, the store was really hectic. Flick, Liz, Angela and Kay were nearly run off their feet. Luckily, Cam came to help, since he had the weekend off from Elgas. Although he wasn’t much help in the store, he could fill gas bottles, man the petrol bowser, lug crates of drinks into the coolroom and empty the bins. This freed Kay and the girls from those jobs and meant that they could concentrate on the cooking and the customers.

By the time Roxie had unpeeled herself from Nathan and his mate, with promises to meet them both after work for drinks at the Wye pub, the store was chaotic. Roxie donned an apron and planted herself at the kitchen bench. With practised hands she swiftly grated up mountains of carrots, onions and beetroot, sliced
tomatoes, shredded lettuce and spread a couple of loaves of bread with margarine, ready for sandwiches.

Usually the staff didn’t have time to make prepacked sandwiches and they were made freshly to order, but Roxie knew that chicken and salad, ham and salad, plain salad, and a few tomato and cheese sandwiches would sell very quickly because people couldn’t be bothered standing round waiting for their orders while the sun was hot and the cool waves beckoned. She usually had huge arguments with her mother about this, but today Kay was too busy to complain. Deftly she piled fillings on to the bread, cut the sandwiches in half, wrapped them in plastic wrap with their fillings showing temptingly, loaded them on a tray and carted them out to the refrigerated display case.

‘Charge $3.50 for the meat and salad, and $3 for the plain salad. Oh, $2.50 for the cheese and tomato,’ she said to the girls. ‘And it’ll be the same for the rolls when I make them up.’

Who was going to argue? She was the boss’s daughter. Kay was too busy cooking at the hotplate to argue as Roxie started putting fillings into crusty bread rolls.

‘Can you make some more chicken and salad sandwiches, please?’ called Liz nervously through the
servery, not sure of whether she should be giving orders to Roxie.

‘Not a problem. See, Mum? Saves time and energy making them up.’

Kay pressed her lips together and didn’t answer. She liked to give personalised service, asking each customer what sort of sauce they preferred on their burgers, whether they wanted mayo, salt and pepper on their sandwiches, or any extra fillings. But the store was busy and if Roxie’s sandwiches were selling, she was too tired to argue. She hadn’t said much to anyone about the robbery but it had actually shaken her up more than she cared to admit.

Nathan came back into the store again. He was due to start lifesaving patrol at eleven, and he wanted his usual order to take with him.

‘Hey Roxie!’ he yelled from the doorway, and his eyes slid across to Flick and he smirked. ‘Don’t forget our date tonight, eh.’

‘I won’t,’ she called back.

‘Roxie, do you have to yell across the shop like that?’ snapped Kay. ‘It’s not professional.’

‘Reality check, Mum.
Nothing
about this place is professional.’

‘Excuse me?’

Oops, thought Liz, they were going to start sniping
at each other. They’d done it all over Easter and it had become very wearing on the nerves. One minute they’d be chatting nicely and the next Roxie would toss her apron on the floor and flounce out of the shop.

Flick wasn’t worrying about the mother–daughter combo. She was getting on with her work. She’d never had cosy mother–daughter chats with her own mother, or screaming matches, either. There’d just been a sort of neutral stand-off ground once Dad had died, and the rift had deepened when Mum had latched onto Rolf, or rather, he’d latched onto her.

So Nathan was going to meet Roxie at the pub, was he? Good. Because mentally she’d already dumped him and so this saved her the bother of actually physically doing it.

‘There’s a great group singing at the pub tonight,’ said Liz wistfully, since she was too young to go. ‘The lead singer’s called Charni and she’s got a voice to die for. Her and her friend write all their own songs. Sometimes they come to Coolini and do a few songs over there under the umbrellas for us younger fans who can’t hit the pub scene, and they’re fantastic. They’ve even cut a CD.’

‘So you’re suggesting I should take myself to the pub tonight after work?’ asked Flick.

‘Just to hear the group.’

‘Oh, sure. Just to hear the group. You don’t think it would look like I’m chasing after Nathan?’

‘Who’s chasing after Nathan?’

Roxie wiggled past carrying a tray of rolls.

‘Not me,’ said Flick firmly. ‘No way. I think he’s a shallow, pompous, up himself poser with big muscles and no brains. Sorry.’

‘Yeah, but he’s got sex appeal and he knows how to use it,’ Roxie said over her shoulder as she went back into the kitchen. ‘And other things.’


Omigod
!’ said Liz, her eyes boggling.

‘That’s disgusting!’ Flick’s cheeks were burning.

‘What’s disgusting?’ Angela was nearby, getting ice-creams out of the freezer.

‘Nothing.’ Flick busied herself fiddling with some chocolate bars, straightening them in neat rows.

‘Roxie just told us that Nathan has sex appeal,’ whispered Liz.

‘So? I know that. Personal experience!’

‘Omigod,’ squeaked Liz.

‘Oh, perlease. Has every female in Coolini Beach fallen for Nathan?’ snapped Flick.

‘Dunno. Have
you
? You were all over him yesterday.’ Angela’s eyes gleamed.

‘Flick is not a sex witch,’ said Liz loyally, as Flick
wished the floor would open up and swallow her.

‘Girls,’ hissed Kay through the doorway. ‘I overheard what you said. This is
not
appropriate conversation! Would you stop it right now and get on with your work?’

Liz went red. It was so embarrassing that Kay had overheard them talking about sex. What if the customers had overheard them too? Judging by the looks and grins, some of them had. Liz scuttled over to the bait freezer to dig around for some pipis that a man couldn’t find. There they were, in the corner, under the whitebait. Her mother always said men couldn’t find anything even if it was right under their noses.

‘That’s $3.50, please,’ she said as she put them into a plastic bag.

‘And I’ll have a chicken and salad roll and a cheese and tomato sandwich too,’ he said, nodding at the display case.

Surely Kay could see that the prepared sandwiches and rolls were selling like crazy. Oh well, it was her store and her business. She had to run it in
her
way.

‘Here comes the first bus!’

Flick had seen it motoring over the bridge. What with the locals, the campers, the surfers, the holiday house owners and the travellers, they didn’t need a
bus load of hungry tourists right now, but the buses provided the regular trade and so were an important part of Kay’s business.

The people piled out and straggled into the store to order their lunches before driving off to gape at the koalas. There was supposed to be a colony of fifteen koalas in the small gums at the side of the Coolini road, which was phenomenal, because they usually didn’t like being stared at and photographed and often went bush during the peak of the summer season. Flick hadn’t heard PK Grunt for two nights, so she’d surmised that he’d wisely gone bush till the campers left. Despite Randy’s efforts there were always a few boys who threw sticks and stones at the fat furry creatures to try to wake them up while they were enjoying their daytime snooze.

This bus load seemed to consist mainly of young backpackers, many of them, judging by their accents, from Scandinavia. They too were interested in the ready-made sandwiches and rolls.

‘They’re not buying the hot food,’ grumbled Kay. ‘I only have two orders for lasagne and one order for a burger with the lot.’

‘But it saves work,’ retorted Roxie. ‘And you’re still making a profit. What’s your problem?’

She’d started churning out more sandwiches and
rolls, this time adding egg and lettuce, and roast beef and salad to her menu.

‘That roast beef’s supposed to be served hot with gravy in a bun,’ snapped Kay when she saw Roxie happily slicing it up.

‘There’s enough left for hot rolls, Mum. Relax. Go drop a couple of Valium or something, will ya? Anyway, when I’ve done this lot I’m having a ciggie.’

The bus drove off. They’d be back in twenty minutes to collect the food and eat it at the tables.

‘Phew. It’s getting hot. Can we turn on the air conditioner?’ asked Angela, wiping her face with the corner of her apron, a definitely non-hygienic gesture that would have sent Kay into a spin if she’d seen it.

The scratch on her face looked raw and sore.

‘Did you run into a tree or something?’ asked Liz, looking concerned.

‘Huh?’

‘Your face.’

‘I ran into something all right, but it wasn’t a tree,’ said Angela shortly, and Liz knew that the subject was closed.

‘Here comes the Wildlife tour bus. It’s early,’ called Flick through the door as she carried shakes and sandwiches outside to a family — Mum, Dad and two kids — who were sitting under an umbrella.

‘Hot enough for you?’ asked Flick.

‘What?’ The woman looked up, startled, from mopping the little boy’s face with a damp flannel. He was very pale and his eyes were dull in his white face. He looked about seven or eight, and the girl looked about ten. She had dark circles under her eyes.

‘The weather. It’s hot,’ said Flick.

‘It is when you’re travelling,’ said the man. ‘We left Sydney late last night and couldn’t find anywhere to stay, so we’ve been taking turns driving. We’re going to see the Twelve Apostles and then on to Warrnambool for a few days before we head back.’

‘I told you we should have booked in somewhere,’ snapped the woman.

The man ignored her comment. ‘The air conditioner’s packed up. And young Jamie here’s been car sick all the way, even though we gave him some pills before we left.’

‘The Great Ocean Road’s so winding,’ muttered the woman. She looked exhausted. ‘In fact, we were thinking about staying here for a night and travelling on tomorrow when the cool change kicks in. We haven’t seen a motel, though.’

‘There isn’t one,’ said Flick. ‘You’d need to drive back to Lorne or on to Apollo Bay because there’s no
vacancies at the pub. But I doubt you’ll get one anywhere round here.’

The woman sighed. ‘Do you know how much it is to hire a van?’

‘Twenty dollars a night for unpowered and thirty for powered,’ said Flick, ‘but I don’t think there’s any vacant ones.’

‘What about a house?’

‘There’s plenty of bed and breakfast places along the coast, but again they’re probably all full,’ said Flick. ‘I’ll ask Kay. She might know somewhere.’

Feeling sorry for the family, Flick hurried into the store. ‘Kay, do you know of any B&Bs with vacancies? Or a house? There’s a family out there desperate for a place to stay.’

Maggie, who was buying her usual cigarettes, glanced up.

‘Where’s this family?’

‘Sitting out there under the umbrella.’

Maggie gave them a shrewd glance. ‘Okay, I’ll adopt them. They can stay at my place. I’ve got the two bedrooms downstairs, and there’s a shower and toilet, rumpus room with sofas, TV and pool table. If they buy their meals here I’ll put them up. I can’t be bothered cooking, you see, but they’re welcome to stay if that suits them.’

‘How much?’ said Flick quickly, seeing as she now seemed to be in the position of negotiator.

‘I dunno.’

‘The vans are thirty.’

‘Okay, thirty then. That sound okay?’

It sounded like a bargain, Flick thought, as she hurried out to tell them the news. The man looked at his wife and nodded.

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘We can buy our food here, no worries, and just stock in some snacks and fruit. We packed an electric jug, tea, coffee, sugar and we’ve got a picnic set. So we’ll be fine.’

Maggie came out and Flick introduced the family to her, then left them to it. She felt quite important. As Kay said, this job didn’t just entail serving behind the counter and waiting on tables. They were a general information service too, and if they could be helpful, people could enjoy their time even more at Coolini Beach.

BOOK: The Search
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