Always With You Page 4

  “Anytime,” Joe said as I hopped out of the truck.

  I looked at Beth. “It was nice to meet you both.”

  Her smile lit up her face.

  “See you around,” Joe said.

  Hope so, I thought as they pulled away.

  ***

  The next couple of days were mostly spent lounging by the public pool, the water soothing my aching limbs until I started to feel normal again. I spent an evening in Kelly’s Tavern – referred to simply as the Tav by the locals – and tried not to think about my dwindling funds. At least the accommodation was cheap. I needed to make a plan of what to do next, but every time I thought about it I came up blank. Broome would be the obvious next stop, but I was reluctant to get back on the road and was enjoying having a room to myself.

  “You should get a swimming pool here,” I said to Stan when I sat beneath a tree, having a picnic lunch on Saturday afternoon.

  “Too expensive,” he said flatly.

  “But if you had a pool and did the place up a bit – made the rooms nicer and tidied up the garden – then you could charge more and you’d make the money back.”

  “Full of ideas, aren’t you?”

  “You could have a little bar by the pool, serve cold beers and cocktails and a few snacks. You could even have themed nights.”

  “I’d have to employ someone if I did that.”

  “But you’d make more money so you’d be able to.”

  “I like things how they are,” he said.

  “This place has so much potential. The garden could be a real feature if you jus—” I jumped up to follow him as he walked away. “Honestly, you should get a gardener. The place could be incredible.”

  “I manage the garden quite well myself,” he said huffily, stopping in front of a large shed. “In fact, I’m going to mow the grass, so I’ll ruin your peace. Maybe you should head off for a walk or go and find someone to talk to in the Tav . . .”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

  “You talk a lot,” he said, rolling a cumbersome old lawnmower past me. I looked into the shed at the array of tools and junk.

  “I could help you,” I suggested, reaching for a pair of shears which hung on the wall. My body seemed to produce an involuntary negative response to the tools, but I ignored it. I could probably never look at a pumpkin again, but I could manage a bit of gardening. “I could trim the hedges.”

  Stan looked dubious.

  “I can’t really mess it up, can I?” I said. “It could hardly look any worse.”

  “Now you’re being offensive!”

  I fluttered my eyelashes at him. “Come on, let me help.”

  “I’m not paying you.”

  “You don’t have to. I’ll work for the satisfaction of making the place look nice.”

  “I could probably stretch to a beer, I suppose.”

  “Perfect!” I said, setting off with the rusty old shears. “I’ll start around the main path to make it more appealing when people walk in.”

  He waved me off and brought the lawnmower to life with an almighty roar. I’d expected it to be satisfying, hacking back the thick shrubs and bushes, but I soon realised my mistake. My hands hadn’t quite recovered from the farm work, and I struggled to grip the shears properly. Then there was the heat: sweat trickled down my body as I fought with the foliage. The shears were old and rusty and not really up to the task, even if I’d been working at my full strength. Back in the shed I searched for another pair, but the ones I found weren’t much better.

  “S’ppose you’re gonna blame my tools when you can’t manage the job?” Stan asked as I set off for round two.

  “I’ll manage!” I shouted over my shoulder. Nothing made me more determined than someone telling me I couldn’t do something. After an hour, though, I’d barely made a dint. I was tired and thirsty and my arms looked like I’d been mauled by a wild animal. I’d hardly registered the bushes which scraped my skin, but glancing down now I looked like I’d been attacked. I was fairly sure I had a scratch across my forehead too.

  “The bushes won then?” Stan remarked when I wandered into the office.

  “For today, yes. But tomorrow is another day. It’s too hot now, but I’ll start early tomorrow and the place will look great in no time.”

  “I’m not paying you,” he reminded me.

  “I know that, grumpy pants! A little thanks wouldn’t go amiss.”

  “I didn’t ask you to hang around here getting in my way,” he said. Reaching into the fridge beside the desk, he produced a can of Coke and passed it to me. “You know, if you want someplace fancy to stay, it’d be much easier for you to get a room at the hotel than try and makeover this place. You could get a job there too.”

  “You’re not the first person to suggest that,” I said. “I’m being helpful, though. I’m not sure why you’re in such a rush to get rid of me.”

  “I don’t need help,” he grumbled. “I managed fine before you got here, didn’t I?”

  “That’s debatable,” I said cheekily, taking a swig of the blissfully cool drink. “I suppose I will go and check out the hotel. I’m going to need a job if I’m going to stay around here. And I really don’t feel I can leave you!” I flashed a mischievous grin.

  “I’m sure Arthur will tempt you with his lovely staff accommodation. En-suite bathrooms and everything over there. If you can put up with him, that is – he’s a miserable old fart.”

  “Well, that says a lot coming from you! Don’t worry, I’m only going to ask about a job. I’m not leaving this place until it’s shipshape.”

  “It’s fine as it is,” he shouted after me as I waltzed out the door.

  Chapter 8

  EVELYN – May 1994

  Kununurra was unlike anywhere I’d been before, and it fascinated me. When I’d quizzed Stan, he told me he reckoned there were about three to four thousand permanent residents in the town, though that number would rise if you included people on surrounding farms and stations. There were also a lot of tourists buzzing around, he told me with raised eyebrows. Considering his livelihood depended on tourists, you’d think he’d have a bit more patience for them.

  I was happy when he told me there were a couple of clothes shops over by the big Coles supermarket. I planned on treating myself to some new flip-flops. Stan had looked at me funny when I’d shown him how worn out my current pair were. He insisted they were called thongs, and I explained that thongs should never be worn on feet. It was an amusing conversation that left Stan blushing.

  The Kununurra Hotel was located on the other side of town, just before the petrol station. It was set back from the road and fronted by a row of palm trees, which gave the place an exotic feel. I found the front desk unmanned and the place quiet. There were no signs of life until I reached the bar area in a large courtyard at the back of the hotel.

  A familiar face beamed at me from the edge of a small swimming pool in the middle of the open space. It was Joe. “We meet again!” Water dripped from his hair and glistened down his toned torso.

  “Hi!” I said, making my way between the tables towards him. I smiled at Beth, who was sitting nearby with another girl. “I thought I’d take your advice and see if I could find myself a job.”

  “And a nicer place to stay?” Beth asked.

  “No. Honestly, I like it at the Croc. And I promised Stan I’d help him out with some gardening.” I looked down at my arms. “Although, it’s not going well so far.”

  “Jeez,” Joe said, standing and rubbing a towel over his hair. “You’re one for punishment, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe! Do you know who I should ask about a job?”

  “Arthur. If you dare!”

  “You have to be thick-skinned to work here,” the girl beside Beth said. “Arthur’s not the easiest of characters.”

  “Can’t be worse than Len Jenkins, can he?”

  “You worked for Len?” she asked with an approving nod. “Maybe you’d cope with Arthur t
hen. I’m Leslie, by the way.”

  “Evelyn,” I said, thankful that not all the young people around here were stunningly beautiful. Leslie’s dark curls matched her dark skin and deep brown eyes. She was pretty, but in a less obvious way than Beth, who perhaps ought to be preserved in a museum somewhere. I actually found it hard not to stare at her.

  “You want a beer?” Joe asked, moving to the bar.

  I nodded. “You work here?”

  “No. But we’re friends with the owner’s son. Todd’s around somewhere – he’ll be back in a minute.”

  “You went to school with him,” Leslie said, looking at Joe. “I think calling him a friend is a stretch.”

  “Don’t be mean,” Beth said. “Todd’s all right.”

  I’d just taken a seat beside Leslie when a booming voice rang out around us.

  “You better be paying for that!” An older man stood glaring at Joe, who’d just taken a beer from the fridge behind the bar.

  “Of course,” Joe said casually.

  “That’s Arthur,” Leslie told me quietly.

  “Where the bloody hell is Todd?” Arthur asked.

  “Store room, I reckon,” Joe told him. “There he is.”

  A young skinny guy came in carrying a crate. “You need me?” he asked, looking at Arthur.

  “Tuck yer bloody shirt in. You look a scruff. And don’t go wandering off all the time.”

  “I’m restocking the fridges,” Todd said, tucking in his shirt hastily.

  “I’m going out for a while,” Arthur told him. “Try not to run the place into the ground while I’m gone.” He turned back to Joe. “And it’s not a bloody social club, you know?”

  “We just stopped in for a quick drink,” Joe told him cheerfully. I took a swig of the beer he’d put in front of me and tried to look inconspicuous. The rumours about Arthur were right, and I was happy he was leaving. “Mr Kingston,” Joe called, stopping Arthur in his tracks. “This is our friend, Evelyn. She’s looking for a job if there’s anything going?”

  I plastered on a smile as Arthur looked me up and down. “I might have something coming up. One of the cleaning girls is leaving. You need a place to stay as well, I suppose?”

  I shook my head. “I only need a job.”

  “Come and see me on Monday,” he said, before stalking away.

  “Seems as though he likes you,” Joe said, knocking Leslie’s feet from the chair to sit down. “He’s grumpy but if you keep your head down, it’s probably not such a bad place to work. There’s air con anyway!”

  I was startled by a voice behind me. “You worked in a hotel before?”

  “This is Todd,” Beth told me.

  Todd glared at me as he waited for me to answer. His tone was unfriendly and there was something unsettling about him. He was too thin and his dark eyes were set close together.

  “No,” I told him as he hovered awkwardly. “I really need a job though.”

  “It’s not as easy as you’d think,” he said.

  “C’mon,” Joe jumped in. “It’s a cleaning job! Making beds and tidying up – it’s not exactly rocket science, is it? You Kingstons really know how to make people feel welcome.”

  “I didn’t mean . . .” Todd hesitated, looking flustered. “It’s just that people always think it’s an easy job. I’m only saying it’s not that easy.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” I said. “But I’m not afraid of hard work. I plan on giving the Croc a little makeover, and I don’t think that will be easy either.”

  I earned myself a round of snorts and chuckles. “Stan won’t like you messing with the Croc,” Leslie said. “He’s a big softie but he’s set in his ways.”

  “I think the place could be amazing,” I said. “I made a start trimming back the hedges, but his gardening tools are antiques.”

  “I used to help him out now and again,” Joe told me. “But he just doesn’t seem to care about the place any more.”

  “It makes the town look bad,” Todd remarked. “He ought to give it up and retire. Dad would still buy the place.”

  Joe looked at me. “Arthur’s been wanting to buy the Croc for years, but Stan says he’d rather run the place into the ground than let him get his hands on it.”

  I took a sip of my beer. “Well, he seems to be doing a good job of that.”

  We chatted until I finished the beer, which Joe insisted on paying for. I promised it was my round next time since I already felt in their debt for saving me from the side of the road.

  I just hoped that meant I would be seeing more of them.

  Chapter 9

  EVELYN – May 1994

  “You make friends quick, don’t you?” Stan said when I arrived back at the Croc after an early morning swim on Sunday. I frowned quizzically. “Joe dropped some things off for you.” He nodded over to the office, and I saw a selection of gardening tools propped up by the door.

  I smiled to myself. “These will make life so much easier,” I said, walking over to check them out. Not a hint of rust in sight.

  “You’re not giving up this idea then?”

  “No, it’s my project. Once I set my mind to something, that’s it, I’m afraid.”

  “So you didn’t get the job at the hotel?”

  “Not yet, but I have an interview tomorrow.”

  He leaned against the office doorway. “You’ll be leaving me then, I suppose.”

  “No chance,” I said, winking at him. “I’d better get on.” I threw my bag on the ground, picked up the shiny new shears and headed down the garden.

  “Joe said he’d come and help you later,” Stan called after me. “He’s a good kid, that one.”

  I worked for two hours solid and was amused by the array of lizards I disturbed. Occasionally they made me jump, but generally I enjoyed watching them scuttle around. Cute little things. Stan brought me water at regular intervals and gave me a few gardening tips but showed no interest in helping me. When my arms got tired, I collapsed on my back under the shade of a tall tree, closing my eyes and listening to the birds singing gleefully.

  They stopped abruptly when the roar of machinery filled the air. When I looked up, Joe was grinning at me with an electric hedge-trimmer held aloft. I laughed and wiped the sweat from my hairline. He took over at the part of the hedge where I’d stopped, moving at a steady speed, branches falling all around him. His khaki shorts showed off his deep tan, and the muscles in his back and arms flexed as he worked.

  “A hedge-trimmer seems like cheating,” I told him when he sat beside me half an hour later.

  He grinned and handed me a can of beer. “It’s a great invention, isn’t it?”

  “I would’ve managed it my way.”

  “Sure you would,” he said. “Eventually!”

  “It looks good, anyway.” The gardens already looked bigger. I glanced around, weighing up what I’d do next.

  “So you’re planning on staying in town a while?” Joe asked.

  “Yeah, I think so. If I get the job at the hotel anyway.”

  “And you plan on staying at the Croc?” He looked around.

  “I like it,” I said. “It’s rough around the edges but there’s just something about the place. And I like Stan.”

  “He’s a good guy. He lost his wife a couple of years ago, and I think he still doesn’t know what to do with himself.”

  I frowned, suddenly seeing Stan in a different light. “That’s sad.”

  “Yeah. It’s nice that you’re helping him out. I should come around more often. Right after Linda died, I was around here a lot, but I stopped coming so regularly. It just tailed off, you know? He didn’t seem to want any help.”

  “He’s a hard one to read,” I said thoughtfully. “Sometimes I feel like I’m in his way but other times he seems to like the company.”

  “I’m sure he’s enjoying having you around,” Joe said, picking absent-mindedly at blades of grass. “Most people don’t stay more than a night or two. He pretends he likes it
that way, but I don’t think it’s true.”

  Stan came into view, ending our conversation. “Well, you’ve made a right bloody mess!” he said, looking at the discarded foliage strewn along the path.

  “We’ve not finished yet, you old slave driver!” Joe told him, putting his beer can to one side. “Come on,” he said to me. “Looks like the break’s over!”

  ***

  My job interview on Monday lasted about three minutes. Arthur sat behind his huge solid wooden desk and asked me a couple of questions before telling me I could start the following Monday. Todd spent the whole time lingering in the corner.

  “Fill in these papers and bring them with you when you start,” Arthur said gruffly. “Arrive on time every day and get the job done properly and we’ll get along fine. I’ll see you next week.” He glared at Todd, who opened the door for me.

  In the hallway, I cast my eyes over the papers. “That was easy,” I said to Todd.

  “Like he said, work hard and you’ll be fine.”

  My eyebrows knotted together. Todd was an odd character. He seemed so unsure of himself, as though he wanted to be like his dad but couldn’t quite pull it off. Although why anyone would aspire to be like Arthur was beyond me.

  “Did you have a good weekend?” I asked, hoping to lighten the atmosphere.

  “I run a hotel,” he said, pompously. “Weekends are busy.”

  “You must get some time for fun?”

  “Of course.”

  “I better go,” I said, edging away. “I’ve been doing some work at the Croc and I want to get on with it. Joe kindly lent me some tools, so it’s a bit easier now.”

  “He’s got a girlfriend,” Todd said. “Don’t start causing trouble.”

  I lowered my eyebrows, unsure how to answer. It was an odd comment and I wanted to laugh. “I’m not . . . I mean, I know he’s got a girlfriend. I met Beth, remember?”

  “I’m just saying, that’s all. Joe’s too friendly for his own good sometimes.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” I said flippantly. “See you around, I guess.”

  I left the hotel with the distinct feeling that getting a job there might not be the best decision I’d ever made. Arthur and Todd had both put me on edge, and I got the impression that Todd was probably right: working there wouldn’t be easy. Or, at least, working for the Kingstons wouldn’t be easy. I’d give it a go and if it didn’t work out I’d pack up my things and hit the road.