River Song, page 22
‘That’s up to you both. I’ve got my own plans.’
He looked around again, his eyes soft, and said, ‘Good on you, love. It’s very generous of you. Your mum and I will work something out.’
She squeezed his hand. ‘Thanks, Dad. Now, let me go and haggle with Victoria.’ Maddie drew a breath. She’d never had to make such life-changing decisions before. Had she unwittingly forced a separation between her parents? The money didn’t just open doors, she thought, it closed them, too.
She turned and watched her dad walk back to the pups and lean on the fence yarning with the dog trainer. He was pointing around the property, no doubt telling the other man what a wonderful dairy farm Mr Corbett had back in the day, and how he was going to run beef cattle here now.
*
Sarita wiped the perspiration from her face. Nobody was in a hurry at the boat terminal, which was actually more of an old jetty with a small wooden warehouse that also served as a waiting area. Several kids were fishing, and an old woman dozed in the shade. Sarita couldn’t decide whether it was hotter inside the waiting shed or out in the air and sun. Her Fijian heritage didn’t seem to help when it came to coping with the humidity and heat, she thought.
Stuart sat scrolling through his phone, unperturbed by the discomfort.
The flight from Sydney to Nadi, then a connecting flight to Savusavu, followed by a bumpy bus ride across to the coast, and now the wait for the boat Stuart had arranged to take them to the island they were seeing, had been exhausting. There had to be an easier way to get to Totoka Island, Sarita thought.
‘Couldn’t we just fly straight to the island?’ she asked.
Stuart looked up. ‘No landing strip. Could clear a chopper pad, I s’pose. Wind’s often bad, though. You’ll need to get a decent power boat if you buy it,’ he added.
‘I’ll put it on the list,’ said Sarita, unamused, and even more so when she realised he wasn’t joking.
But as they set out in the launch Stuart had arranged and she finally saw a small green dot on the horizon, Sarita felt a tingle of excitement. Eventually she could make out the silhouettes of palm trees and then the gleaming strip of sand ringing the island.
Around a rocky point in the shelter of a cove jutted the stone seawall and the arm of a wooden jetty. As they motored closer she saw an old barge pulled onto the sand and a small powerboat tied to the jetty.
‘Would that boat make it back to the big island?’ she asked.
Stuart shrugged. ‘Yeah; it’d be rough, though. It’s more for fishing.’
‘I’ll have to take up fishing,’ said Sarita dryly.
‘I can find you a skipper if you want to go deep-sea fishing,’ said Stuart.
‘Let’s wait and see if I decide to buy the place, and have a roof over my head first,’ said Sarita.
She’d been told there was a structure on the island built by a previous owner who had run out of money before completing his dream hideaway.
‘The island looks like a pretty bauble bobbing on the ocean,’ said Sarita.
‘It ain’t going anywhere,’ said Stuart. ‘There’s Varo on the jetty. He’s the caretaker.’
The man in a flowered shirt and faded shorts greeted them with a big smile, and helped Sarita onto the wooden steps.
‘Bula! I am Varo. Welcome to Totoka. It means “beautiful love”,’ he said.
‘That’s nice. Although I’m not looking for Love Island, just a peaceful, happy place,’ said Sarita, her legs feeling a bit wobbly from the bouncing boat ride.
‘Here you are then!’ He made a sweeping gesture and asked, ‘So you want to be here alone? With your family? Or for business?’
‘I don’t expect to be alone. Holidays with family and friends,’ said Sarita. ‘So, what can you tell me about Totoka? What’s its best feature?’
Varo pointed to the peak above them. ‘At the very top, there is a small plateau. If you climb up there, you are indeed close to heaven! Fantastic views all round. Magic.’
‘I’ll wait here,’ said Stuart. ‘With the boat, and the esky.’
Varo looked blank for a moment. ‘Ah, yes! For the cold beer, yes?’
Sarita looked at Stuart. ‘You have an esky of cold beer?’
‘Just in case. Don’t want to be caught short. There’s plenty of juices and fizzy stuff, too.’
‘And food, I hope.’ Sarita turned to Varo. ‘Shall we?’
He hesitated. ‘You want to go to the plateau?’
‘Not right now. I’d like to see whatever has been built here and then sit in the shade with a cold water,’ Sarita replied.
‘Of course, of course. Follow me.’
The sandy path wound through tangled undergrowth and thick trees where insects clustered, zapping around her face.
Then suddenly they entered a large clearing surrounded by tree stumps in which there was a half-finished dwelling. The structure was almost swallowed by tropical plants and trees, and the remains of a woven coconut palm–leaf roof were barely supported by thick wooden posts. Empty windows like hollow eyes and the gaping mouth of a carved double-door entry allowed Sarita to glimpse the framework of unfinished rooms inside, all covered by a tangle of vines and plants. It looked eerie, sad and forgotten.
Picking up a fallen branch, Sarita plunged in, brushing aside the forest debris as she ventured to the entrance and tried to visualise what the original plan for the building might have been. Varo hung back, watching her, his face expressionless.
Sarita took photos and returned to where Varo was sitting on a stump.
‘Where do you stay while you’re here?’ she asked him.
He rose and pointed. ‘On the other side of the island. Beach side. You want to go there? Maybe ten minutes’ walk?’
‘Okay, thanks. Let’s go.’
They set off through the humid, silent bush. But as they headed over a small rise, a fresh sea breeze washed over them. Out in the sun and fresh air, Sarita drew a deep breath, and then saw that they were facing a stretch of untouched silver sand and the deep blue sea with nothing else in sight. She stopped still, speechless. It was staggeringly beautiful.
‘Wow, this is just stunning,’ she murmured.
‘There’s a lagoon around the little breakwater there.’ Varo pointed. ‘This is the side for bures, eh?’ He smiled.
‘Yes, but there doesn’t look like anywhere to bring in a boat. Would that be possible?’ asked Sarita.
Varo shook his head. ‘No way. The island is long and narrow; the north side is the most protected, so that’s where the jetty is, where we came in. Where the lagoon goes out gets good surf waves some of the year. You surf?’
‘Not really. I like swimming in calm water. What about snorkelling?’
He spread his arms, ‘Everywhere! The reef is best. When the tide is in you can see fish, stingrays, all kinds of creatures. When the tide is out, you can jump in and swim along the edge of the coral wall.’
They walked along the beach to the lagoon outlet, and in the shade of some palm trees was a small open-sided shack and a tent.
‘Your place?’
Varo nodded. ‘You want a cold drink?’
‘Yes, please!’
He pulled out a plastic folding chair for Sarita and propped it in the shade. A small ring of stones fringed the remains of a fire. In the shelter was a large table piled with dishes, cooking pans, a chiller and a portable gas cooker, along with supplies in plastic crates. A fishing rod and net leaned in a corner.
‘So you sleep in the tent?’ asked Sarita.
‘Yep. Too many bugs and bities outside. It’s okay if the fire is going.’
‘You don’t have any power?’
‘Plenty. I have a solar charger and my phone’s on satellite link. I only stay here every few weeks. To keep an eye on things.’
‘Like what?’ Sarita couldn’t imagine what would require watching. There didn’t seem to be any animals except for birds, maybe lizards, and whatever lived in the reef and ocean.
‘Boats sometimes come ashore. Tourists, fishermen.’
‘You don’t get lonely when you stay here?’
He shrugged. ‘I have music. I’m not away from home too long. Sometimes my friends come over and stay and we party a bit.’
‘Well, I guess you wouldn’t disturb the neighbours,’ said Sarita.
‘What do you want to do with this place then?’ Varo asked. ‘No tourist resort?’
‘No. Just for family and friends. My kids will love it,’ said Sarita. ‘But how would I get building materials and workers here?’ she added.
He shrugged. ‘Could be a bit tricky. Maybe ask Stuart. So, are you going to buy this place?’
‘Depends,’ said Sarita casually. ‘There are a lot of problems to iron out first. I was led to believe the building was habitable, but it didn’t look –’
‘Oh, it’s liveable,’ said Varo. ‘I didn’t show you everything.’
Sarita drained her water and stood up. ‘So could you show me, Varo?’
Retracing their steps to the half-built building, Varo led Sarita a little further through the trees to a small structure, constructed, Varo said, for the staff who would have worked on the island. Sarita walked around its small kitchen, screened sleeping areas, outdoor shower enclosed by a bamboo screen and a covered patio living area. While it was dusty, leaf-strewn and neglected, its roof was intact and it was certainly habitable.
‘Why don’t you stay here?’ she asked Varo.
‘I like the beach. More of a breeze,’ he replied.
Sarita nodded, not wanting to look or sound too enthusiastic. But her mind was made up. She’d buy Totoka.
*
Sarita stared out the office window at the local marina, which was dotted with yachts. She was worried that she hadn’t yet told Ray that she was going ahead with her crazy dream. She knew that he’d say it was up to her, it was her money and he’d said his piece, but she also knew he wouldn’t be happy about it.
‘Here we are, Mrs Golding, the final contract, if you’d like to go through it once more.’
Sarita raised an eyebrow at Stuart who was sitting beside her, and he shrugged.
‘It’ll be all right,’ he said.
She’d come this far with Stuart so she felt she had to trust his judgement that the woman managing the sale was a reputable solicitor. When Sarita had mentioned to her that she’d been born in Fiji and had family here – the Chands – the solicitor had looked impressed and commented, ‘A very good and important family in the islands.’
Sarita reached for the documents and started to skim through them. She couldn’t see any significant changes, so she signed her name where required, momentarily catching her breath at the amount she was spending. Who would ever have believed this? she thought. For a moment she felt a pang of guilt about Ray, but she hoped he’d eventually come around when everything was sorted on the island and they were enjoying their own little piece of paradise.
*
Chrissie settled herself at her table in the coffee shop near the school. Lloyd, the owner, gave her a wave.
‘The usual?’
‘Yes please, Lloyd.’
The woman at the table next to her was reading the free newspaper and closed it with a sigh. She caught Chrissie’s eye.
‘Hi. Would you like to read the local rag?’ she asked.
‘Thanks, but I’ve read that issue.’
‘It’s really good. No help for me, though,’ said the woman. ‘Not enough classified ads. I s’pose I’ll have to go online.’
‘What are you looking for?’ asked Chrissie. Then she thought perhaps this was too inquisitive. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to pry.’
The young woman shrugged. ‘It’s okay. I’m so fed up with trying to get things fixed and paying a fortune to tradies. I don’t know if they’re ripping me off or not.’
‘Are you building a house or something?’ asked Chrissie.
‘My husband took off with another woman so I’m living in my aunt’s home. She’s gone into an aged care facility. I’m grateful to live there but it’s an old place that needs endless things fixed,’ she said. ‘My aunt let it go a bit the last few years.’
‘Oh dear. How bad is it?’ asked Chrissie.
‘Just small things, but not small to me. Then when I get the invoices for the repairs it always makes me feel like I’m being taking for a ride.’ She managed a smile and then, leaning over to Chrissie’s table, held out her hand. ‘Hi, I’m Penelope. Penny.’
Chrissie chuckled. ‘I’m Christina. Chrissie.’
Lloyd put Chrissie’s chai green tea in front of her. ‘You two should share a table. You’re both regulars.’
‘Thanks. I was just having another whinge about tradies,’ said Penny.
‘Why don’t you find a hunky Mr Fix-It and ask him to move in,’ suggested Lloyd with a wink at Chrissie.
‘In your dreams.’ Penny smiled as she got up and moved over to Chrissie’s table.
‘Ask Chrissie here. She offered to fix my pantry shelves,’ said Lloyd as he headed to the kitchen.
‘Really? How do you know how to do stuff like that?’ asked Penny.
Chrissie shrugged. ‘I was lucky, I guess. I used to hang around a lot with my grandad and he taught me how to do things.’
‘So can you change a tap washer, fix a squeaky door, unclog a drain . . . that sort of thing?’ asked Penny.
Chrissie nodded. ‘Yep. But I like to make things, build stuff, mainly.’
‘Wow! How come most women are never taught to do that stuff? Mind you, some men aren’t, either. My grandfather wouldn’t have known a tap washer from a piece of fruit.’
‘I also learned some things at school. I preferred woodwork to sewing,’ said Chrissie. ‘I make all the scenery and props for our local theatre productions. Well, I used to, when we lived in Fig Tree River. We only moved here recently.’
‘Really? That sounds cool. I suppose you can change a car tyre too?’
Chrissie nodded and they both laughed.
‘I’d be happy to help you. But our new place is an apartment so I don’t have my tools or my old workshop,’ Chrissie sighed.
Penny flung up her arms. ‘I do! My God. I still have my late uncle’s garage full of tools! I have no idea what to do with them. He loved playing in there. Had all the spanners and stuff lined up on hooks in graduating sizes, all neat as a pin. My aunt used to complain about how untidy he was in the house, but move anything from its place in the garage? Heaven help you.’ She laughed. ‘Not that I ever touched his tools.’
‘What do you need fixing?’ asked Chrissie.
‘Oh – oh no, I’m not asking you to do anything . . .’ began Penny. ‘Sorry, I was just having a rant.’
‘I’m not a plumber but I’m pretty handy on the tools. I’d be happy to pop over, truly. Where do you live?’
After that first day, the two women quickly became friends.
The first time Chrissie went to Penny’s house she walked around the garage, admiring Penny’s late uncle’s tools and treasures.
‘You’re right, he was a tidy person. And everything is as sharp as a tack. What sort of things did he make?’
‘Not a lot really. He’d fix things when they broke. We kids asked for a treehouse one time but that was a bit too much of a stretch. He seemed to just like tinkering with things, you know, pottering around in here.’
Chrissie smiled. ‘Man Cave syndrome. Men like to mess about in their own space with their “toys”.’
‘So do women, I s’pose,’ said Penny. ‘I don’t have a space. But then I don’t have any hobbies.’
‘Making repairs isn’t just a hobby. It’s pretty essential,’ said Chrissie. ‘I’m sure I saved my family a heap by doing odd jobs around our old place.’
‘Your husband doesn’t fix stuff for you?’
‘Not really. He’s a plumber but he never showed me how to fix a leaky tap or clogged drain or anything. I’m the one who did most of the work around our old home. There’s not so much call for it in our new place.’
‘Could you teach me?’ asked Penny. ‘I’m so over feeling like an idiot and worried I’m being ripped off for what seem to me to be pretty basic things. I’m happy to pay you.’
‘Not at all. It’s my pleasure,’ said Chrissie.
In the house, Penny showed Chrissie the cupboard door hanging by one hinge.
‘Easy-peasy, let me show you,’ said Chrissie.
After Chrissie had finished several other odd jobs, they sat down over coffee and Penny looked thoughtful.
‘You know what I’m thinking? You should teach other women how to fix stuff. I know heaps of people who’d be interested.’
Chrissie shrugged. ‘Sure, I’d be happy to do that, ask your friends. Daytime, during school hours, is best for me.’
‘Okay. Uncle Tim would be so happy to know that his tools are being used,’ said Penny.
‘Oh, I’ll be very careful with them,’ said Chrissie quickly, knowing what Troy was like with his equipment and all his new toys, like the jetski and his new sports car which she was not allowed to drive.
‘I’ll set it up,’ said Penny.
*
Four women were ready and waiting when Chrissie arrived at Penny’s home the following Thursday.
And to her surprise, they’d brought a few items with them that needed minor repairs. After she’d done those, they all trailed after Chrissie as she fixed a jammed window blind, replaced a washer and repaired a broken chair leg in Penny’s house. As before, Chrissie refused to be paid, even though they all offered.
Over coffee and cake later, they exchanged stories about unreliable tradies, and appliances that barely lasted the warranty period.
‘We have my mother’s fridge for drinks out on the back verandah – it’s still going like a train and it’s over thirty years old,’ said one. ‘But newer things seem so much flimsier and less reliable.’
He looked around again, his eyes soft, and said, ‘Good on you, love. It’s very generous of you. Your mum and I will work something out.’
She squeezed his hand. ‘Thanks, Dad. Now, let me go and haggle with Victoria.’ Maddie drew a breath. She’d never had to make such life-changing decisions before. Had she unwittingly forced a separation between her parents? The money didn’t just open doors, she thought, it closed them, too.
She turned and watched her dad walk back to the pups and lean on the fence yarning with the dog trainer. He was pointing around the property, no doubt telling the other man what a wonderful dairy farm Mr Corbett had back in the day, and how he was going to run beef cattle here now.
*
Sarita wiped the perspiration from her face. Nobody was in a hurry at the boat terminal, which was actually more of an old jetty with a small wooden warehouse that also served as a waiting area. Several kids were fishing, and an old woman dozed in the shade. Sarita couldn’t decide whether it was hotter inside the waiting shed or out in the air and sun. Her Fijian heritage didn’t seem to help when it came to coping with the humidity and heat, she thought.
Stuart sat scrolling through his phone, unperturbed by the discomfort.
The flight from Sydney to Nadi, then a connecting flight to Savusavu, followed by a bumpy bus ride across to the coast, and now the wait for the boat Stuart had arranged to take them to the island they were seeing, had been exhausting. There had to be an easier way to get to Totoka Island, Sarita thought.
‘Couldn’t we just fly straight to the island?’ she asked.
Stuart looked up. ‘No landing strip. Could clear a chopper pad, I s’pose. Wind’s often bad, though. You’ll need to get a decent power boat if you buy it,’ he added.
‘I’ll put it on the list,’ said Sarita, unamused, and even more so when she realised he wasn’t joking.
But as they set out in the launch Stuart had arranged and she finally saw a small green dot on the horizon, Sarita felt a tingle of excitement. Eventually she could make out the silhouettes of palm trees and then the gleaming strip of sand ringing the island.
Around a rocky point in the shelter of a cove jutted the stone seawall and the arm of a wooden jetty. As they motored closer she saw an old barge pulled onto the sand and a small powerboat tied to the jetty.
‘Would that boat make it back to the big island?’ she asked.
Stuart shrugged. ‘Yeah; it’d be rough, though. It’s more for fishing.’
‘I’ll have to take up fishing,’ said Sarita dryly.
‘I can find you a skipper if you want to go deep-sea fishing,’ said Stuart.
‘Let’s wait and see if I decide to buy the place, and have a roof over my head first,’ said Sarita.
She’d been told there was a structure on the island built by a previous owner who had run out of money before completing his dream hideaway.
‘The island looks like a pretty bauble bobbing on the ocean,’ said Sarita.
‘It ain’t going anywhere,’ said Stuart. ‘There’s Varo on the jetty. He’s the caretaker.’
The man in a flowered shirt and faded shorts greeted them with a big smile, and helped Sarita onto the wooden steps.
‘Bula! I am Varo. Welcome to Totoka. It means “beautiful love”,’ he said.
‘That’s nice. Although I’m not looking for Love Island, just a peaceful, happy place,’ said Sarita, her legs feeling a bit wobbly from the bouncing boat ride.
‘Here you are then!’ He made a sweeping gesture and asked, ‘So you want to be here alone? With your family? Or for business?’
‘I don’t expect to be alone. Holidays with family and friends,’ said Sarita. ‘So, what can you tell me about Totoka? What’s its best feature?’
Varo pointed to the peak above them. ‘At the very top, there is a small plateau. If you climb up there, you are indeed close to heaven! Fantastic views all round. Magic.’
‘I’ll wait here,’ said Stuart. ‘With the boat, and the esky.’
Varo looked blank for a moment. ‘Ah, yes! For the cold beer, yes?’
Sarita looked at Stuart. ‘You have an esky of cold beer?’
‘Just in case. Don’t want to be caught short. There’s plenty of juices and fizzy stuff, too.’
‘And food, I hope.’ Sarita turned to Varo. ‘Shall we?’
He hesitated. ‘You want to go to the plateau?’
‘Not right now. I’d like to see whatever has been built here and then sit in the shade with a cold water,’ Sarita replied.
‘Of course, of course. Follow me.’
The sandy path wound through tangled undergrowth and thick trees where insects clustered, zapping around her face.
Then suddenly they entered a large clearing surrounded by tree stumps in which there was a half-finished dwelling. The structure was almost swallowed by tropical plants and trees, and the remains of a woven coconut palm–leaf roof were barely supported by thick wooden posts. Empty windows like hollow eyes and the gaping mouth of a carved double-door entry allowed Sarita to glimpse the framework of unfinished rooms inside, all covered by a tangle of vines and plants. It looked eerie, sad and forgotten.
Picking up a fallen branch, Sarita plunged in, brushing aside the forest debris as she ventured to the entrance and tried to visualise what the original plan for the building might have been. Varo hung back, watching her, his face expressionless.
Sarita took photos and returned to where Varo was sitting on a stump.
‘Where do you stay while you’re here?’ she asked him.
He rose and pointed. ‘On the other side of the island. Beach side. You want to go there? Maybe ten minutes’ walk?’
‘Okay, thanks. Let’s go.’
They set off through the humid, silent bush. But as they headed over a small rise, a fresh sea breeze washed over them. Out in the sun and fresh air, Sarita drew a deep breath, and then saw that they were facing a stretch of untouched silver sand and the deep blue sea with nothing else in sight. She stopped still, speechless. It was staggeringly beautiful.
‘Wow, this is just stunning,’ she murmured.
‘There’s a lagoon around the little breakwater there.’ Varo pointed. ‘This is the side for bures, eh?’ He smiled.
‘Yes, but there doesn’t look like anywhere to bring in a boat. Would that be possible?’ asked Sarita.
Varo shook his head. ‘No way. The island is long and narrow; the north side is the most protected, so that’s where the jetty is, where we came in. Where the lagoon goes out gets good surf waves some of the year. You surf?’
‘Not really. I like swimming in calm water. What about snorkelling?’
He spread his arms, ‘Everywhere! The reef is best. When the tide is in you can see fish, stingrays, all kinds of creatures. When the tide is out, you can jump in and swim along the edge of the coral wall.’
They walked along the beach to the lagoon outlet, and in the shade of some palm trees was a small open-sided shack and a tent.
‘Your place?’
Varo nodded. ‘You want a cold drink?’
‘Yes, please!’
He pulled out a plastic folding chair for Sarita and propped it in the shade. A small ring of stones fringed the remains of a fire. In the shelter was a large table piled with dishes, cooking pans, a chiller and a portable gas cooker, along with supplies in plastic crates. A fishing rod and net leaned in a corner.
‘So you sleep in the tent?’ asked Sarita.
‘Yep. Too many bugs and bities outside. It’s okay if the fire is going.’
‘You don’t have any power?’
‘Plenty. I have a solar charger and my phone’s on satellite link. I only stay here every few weeks. To keep an eye on things.’
‘Like what?’ Sarita couldn’t imagine what would require watching. There didn’t seem to be any animals except for birds, maybe lizards, and whatever lived in the reef and ocean.
‘Boats sometimes come ashore. Tourists, fishermen.’
‘You don’t get lonely when you stay here?’
He shrugged. ‘I have music. I’m not away from home too long. Sometimes my friends come over and stay and we party a bit.’
‘Well, I guess you wouldn’t disturb the neighbours,’ said Sarita.
‘What do you want to do with this place then?’ Varo asked. ‘No tourist resort?’
‘No. Just for family and friends. My kids will love it,’ said Sarita. ‘But how would I get building materials and workers here?’ she added.
He shrugged. ‘Could be a bit tricky. Maybe ask Stuart. So, are you going to buy this place?’
‘Depends,’ said Sarita casually. ‘There are a lot of problems to iron out first. I was led to believe the building was habitable, but it didn’t look –’
‘Oh, it’s liveable,’ said Varo. ‘I didn’t show you everything.’
Sarita drained her water and stood up. ‘So could you show me, Varo?’
Retracing their steps to the half-built building, Varo led Sarita a little further through the trees to a small structure, constructed, Varo said, for the staff who would have worked on the island. Sarita walked around its small kitchen, screened sleeping areas, outdoor shower enclosed by a bamboo screen and a covered patio living area. While it was dusty, leaf-strewn and neglected, its roof was intact and it was certainly habitable.
‘Why don’t you stay here?’ she asked Varo.
‘I like the beach. More of a breeze,’ he replied.
Sarita nodded, not wanting to look or sound too enthusiastic. But her mind was made up. She’d buy Totoka.
*
Sarita stared out the office window at the local marina, which was dotted with yachts. She was worried that she hadn’t yet told Ray that she was going ahead with her crazy dream. She knew that he’d say it was up to her, it was her money and he’d said his piece, but she also knew he wouldn’t be happy about it.
‘Here we are, Mrs Golding, the final contract, if you’d like to go through it once more.’
Sarita raised an eyebrow at Stuart who was sitting beside her, and he shrugged.
‘It’ll be all right,’ he said.
She’d come this far with Stuart so she felt she had to trust his judgement that the woman managing the sale was a reputable solicitor. When Sarita had mentioned to her that she’d been born in Fiji and had family here – the Chands – the solicitor had looked impressed and commented, ‘A very good and important family in the islands.’
Sarita reached for the documents and started to skim through them. She couldn’t see any significant changes, so she signed her name where required, momentarily catching her breath at the amount she was spending. Who would ever have believed this? she thought. For a moment she felt a pang of guilt about Ray, but she hoped he’d eventually come around when everything was sorted on the island and they were enjoying their own little piece of paradise.
*
Chrissie settled herself at her table in the coffee shop near the school. Lloyd, the owner, gave her a wave.
‘The usual?’
‘Yes please, Lloyd.’
The woman at the table next to her was reading the free newspaper and closed it with a sigh. She caught Chrissie’s eye.
‘Hi. Would you like to read the local rag?’ she asked.
‘Thanks, but I’ve read that issue.’
‘It’s really good. No help for me, though,’ said the woman. ‘Not enough classified ads. I s’pose I’ll have to go online.’
‘What are you looking for?’ asked Chrissie. Then she thought perhaps this was too inquisitive. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to pry.’
The young woman shrugged. ‘It’s okay. I’m so fed up with trying to get things fixed and paying a fortune to tradies. I don’t know if they’re ripping me off or not.’
‘Are you building a house or something?’ asked Chrissie.
‘My husband took off with another woman so I’m living in my aunt’s home. She’s gone into an aged care facility. I’m grateful to live there but it’s an old place that needs endless things fixed,’ she said. ‘My aunt let it go a bit the last few years.’
‘Oh dear. How bad is it?’ asked Chrissie.
‘Just small things, but not small to me. Then when I get the invoices for the repairs it always makes me feel like I’m being taking for a ride.’ She managed a smile and then, leaning over to Chrissie’s table, held out her hand. ‘Hi, I’m Penelope. Penny.’
Chrissie chuckled. ‘I’m Christina. Chrissie.’
Lloyd put Chrissie’s chai green tea in front of her. ‘You two should share a table. You’re both regulars.’
‘Thanks. I was just having another whinge about tradies,’ said Penny.
‘Why don’t you find a hunky Mr Fix-It and ask him to move in,’ suggested Lloyd with a wink at Chrissie.
‘In your dreams.’ Penny smiled as she got up and moved over to Chrissie’s table.
‘Ask Chrissie here. She offered to fix my pantry shelves,’ said Lloyd as he headed to the kitchen.
‘Really? How do you know how to do stuff like that?’ asked Penny.
Chrissie shrugged. ‘I was lucky, I guess. I used to hang around a lot with my grandad and he taught me how to do things.’
‘So can you change a tap washer, fix a squeaky door, unclog a drain . . . that sort of thing?’ asked Penny.
Chrissie nodded. ‘Yep. But I like to make things, build stuff, mainly.’
‘Wow! How come most women are never taught to do that stuff? Mind you, some men aren’t, either. My grandfather wouldn’t have known a tap washer from a piece of fruit.’
‘I also learned some things at school. I preferred woodwork to sewing,’ said Chrissie. ‘I make all the scenery and props for our local theatre productions. Well, I used to, when we lived in Fig Tree River. We only moved here recently.’
‘Really? That sounds cool. I suppose you can change a car tyre too?’
Chrissie nodded and they both laughed.
‘I’d be happy to help you. But our new place is an apartment so I don’t have my tools or my old workshop,’ Chrissie sighed.
Penny flung up her arms. ‘I do! My God. I still have my late uncle’s garage full of tools! I have no idea what to do with them. He loved playing in there. Had all the spanners and stuff lined up on hooks in graduating sizes, all neat as a pin. My aunt used to complain about how untidy he was in the house, but move anything from its place in the garage? Heaven help you.’ She laughed. ‘Not that I ever touched his tools.’
‘What do you need fixing?’ asked Chrissie.
‘Oh – oh no, I’m not asking you to do anything . . .’ began Penny. ‘Sorry, I was just having a rant.’
‘I’m not a plumber but I’m pretty handy on the tools. I’d be happy to pop over, truly. Where do you live?’
After that first day, the two women quickly became friends.
The first time Chrissie went to Penny’s house she walked around the garage, admiring Penny’s late uncle’s tools and treasures.
‘You’re right, he was a tidy person. And everything is as sharp as a tack. What sort of things did he make?’
‘Not a lot really. He’d fix things when they broke. We kids asked for a treehouse one time but that was a bit too much of a stretch. He seemed to just like tinkering with things, you know, pottering around in here.’
Chrissie smiled. ‘Man Cave syndrome. Men like to mess about in their own space with their “toys”.’
‘So do women, I s’pose,’ said Penny. ‘I don’t have a space. But then I don’t have any hobbies.’
‘Making repairs isn’t just a hobby. It’s pretty essential,’ said Chrissie. ‘I’m sure I saved my family a heap by doing odd jobs around our old place.’
‘Your husband doesn’t fix stuff for you?’
‘Not really. He’s a plumber but he never showed me how to fix a leaky tap or clogged drain or anything. I’m the one who did most of the work around our old home. There’s not so much call for it in our new place.’
‘Could you teach me?’ asked Penny. ‘I’m so over feeling like an idiot and worried I’m being ripped off for what seem to me to be pretty basic things. I’m happy to pay you.’
‘Not at all. It’s my pleasure,’ said Chrissie.
In the house, Penny showed Chrissie the cupboard door hanging by one hinge.
‘Easy-peasy, let me show you,’ said Chrissie.
After Chrissie had finished several other odd jobs, they sat down over coffee and Penny looked thoughtful.
‘You know what I’m thinking? You should teach other women how to fix stuff. I know heaps of people who’d be interested.’
Chrissie shrugged. ‘Sure, I’d be happy to do that, ask your friends. Daytime, during school hours, is best for me.’
‘Okay. Uncle Tim would be so happy to know that his tools are being used,’ said Penny.
‘Oh, I’ll be very careful with them,’ said Chrissie quickly, knowing what Troy was like with his equipment and all his new toys, like the jetski and his new sports car which she was not allowed to drive.
‘I’ll set it up,’ said Penny.
*
Four women were ready and waiting when Chrissie arrived at Penny’s home the following Thursday.
And to her surprise, they’d brought a few items with them that needed minor repairs. After she’d done those, they all trailed after Chrissie as she fixed a jammed window blind, replaced a washer and repaired a broken chair leg in Penny’s house. As before, Chrissie refused to be paid, even though they all offered.
Over coffee and cake later, they exchanged stories about unreliable tradies, and appliances that barely lasted the warranty period.
‘We have my mother’s fridge for drinks out on the back verandah – it’s still going like a train and it’s over thirty years old,’ said one. ‘But newer things seem so much flimsier and less reliable.’
