Back on Track, page 2
She flicked on the light. At least the house was still tidy and even though the fresh air coming through the permanently jammed-open window was hot, it helped dispel the odour of cigarettes in this room.
Lacey’s phone vibrated on the table and made the special sound she’d chosen for video calls. Her spirits lifted immediately and she tapped to accept. Her sister’s bright smile filled the screen, froze, flickered then steadied.
“Happy week’s end, Freya.”
“And to you, little sis.”
Lacey sat on a kitchen chair, the one that didn’t wobble, and leaned in. “How was work?”
“Great as usual. I’m so lucky to work with these people. They’re amazing. One day you’ll have to come and meet them all.”
“One day I will.” Lacey wished she could afford to visit Freya in New Zealand sooner.
“I can see you’re in the kitchen,” Freya said. “You on your own then?”
“Yes. Dad’s out.”
“Is he contributing to the bills yet or still spending his money on booze, fags and pokies?”
“I had a chat with him like you said. He’s giving me money for groceries now and some extra towards bills.” Lacey said it with a smile.
“How much?”
“Enough.” It wasn’t much and it was intermittent but Lacey didn’t want to spoil her conversation with her sister by dwelling on their dad’s shortcomings. Freya never saw any good in him no matter what he did. “He got a mate to fix the roof for us so it’s not leaking any more. Only cost us the materials and a carton of beer.”
“Bloody hell, Lace! He should be contributing far more than that. The house needs maintenance and—” Freya’s head wobbled back and forth on the screen before it froze again, the problems with the house and her tirade against their father silenced for a moment, then she was back, her lips curved up in a gentle smile. “Dear Gran, it was good of her to leave me the money. You got the short straw with a house that’s falling down around your ears.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“You should sell it. A developer would buy it and you could get yourself something better.”
Lacey sighed. They’d had this conversation before. Her run-down house would fetch a decent amount if she sold it; she had to weigh that against the pluses which were convenience to work, she was only a thirty-minute bus ride away, she had a small backyard and the house was roomy – she and her dad had plenty of space for the two of them.
“The house might be a bit run-down but—”
“A bit!” Freya scoffed.
“I’ve got something else to tell—”
Freya’s excited yelp cut her off. “Someone’s at the door. Friday night pizza at our place tonight. We worked late and we’re all starving. Sorry, Lace, but I have to go. I’ll ring you tomorrow, okay?”
“Sure.”
A blast of noise came from behind Freya and the image on the phone wobbled as she moved away.
“Sorry. They’ve got the music going already. Must go. Love you.”
Lacey’s screen went black and in the sudden silence the old house pressed in on her. She glanced around. The ceiling was stained and paint flaked from the walls. Gran always said it had good bones, but the bones were in need of nurturing and that cost money that Lacey didn’t have.
Her gaze returned to the table and Miss Ketty’s paper bag. She’d been so shocked by the the gift of a holiday she’d not really looked inside. She pulled out the contents. Besides the mock-up of a train ticket, there were brochures about the train journey and some about Darwin, a pretty tin of mints, travel-sized packs of tissues and hand cream, a pen and small notepad, and a fancy bag tag. She looked again at the message on the page. Miss Ketty was the kindest person.
The ticket slipped through her fingers at a thud on the front door. Then she relaxed as she heard keys jingling. It would be her dad. There was another thud, muffled swearing and then some sharp knocks. Lacey hurried up the passage. He was obviously having trouble with his key.
She opened the door and he tumbled in. Lacey put out her hands to stop him from falling. His arms wrapped her in a hug.
“Hello, love.”
She let out a breath. He was drunk enough to be happy. It was always a fine line.
He clung to her, his frame scrawny beneath her grip. He was little more than a bundle of bones, smelling of booze and cigarettes.
“Hi, Dad.”
He wobbled away from her, studied her through narrowed eyes, then staggered backwards against the wall.
“I thought you’d be out with that fella of yours.”
“We both had things on tonight.”
“’Bout time you brought him round so I can meet him, don’t you reckon?”
“Soon.” Lacey’s relationship with Dean was still very new. She wasn’t ready to bring him home yet. “I had some exciting news at work today.”
He patted her cheek gently and grinned. “I’ve got news too.” He lurched around and made his way along the passage, bouncing from one wall to the other like a pinball seeking a slot. “Anything for dinner? I could eat a horse and chase the rider.”
“I’ll get changed and make you something to eat,” she called after him. “Might be just cheese on toast and baked beans tonight.”
He waved one hand in the air but didn’t look back. “Sounds good, love.” The words whistled over his crooked teeth.
Lacey hurried into her bedroom. The stale smell of smoke infiltrated, despite her best efforts to keep it out. She turned on her small oil diffuser and while she changed the gentle floral scent of bergamot wafted through the room. She was glad her dad had come home happy. They could have a relaxing time together, so rare these days. Often he drank just enough to fill him with regret for all the things that had gone wrong with his life – his wife dying, moving from the country, trouble finding work, being beholden to his wife’s mother for putting a roof over their heads, and the final barb that had hurt more than all the rest was Lacey being left the house instead of him. It made him a nasty drunk. Tonight she’d take him as he was, way too intoxicated to remember it tomorrow but happy at least, and she could tell him about Miss Ketty’s offer.
The smell of a fresh cigarette reached her before she’d made it back to the other end of the house. She stepped into the kitchen, gasped and rushed forward. Her dad was face planted on the table, one arm dangling with a freshly lit cigarette that slipped from his fingers just as she got close. She snatched it up, stubbed it out in the sink and put it in the bin, trying not to think of the money she was tossing away.
She turned back to him. His right cheek was squashed side-on against the tabletop and a strand of hair had fallen across one eye. She reached down and gently tucked it back.
“Oh, Dad,” she mumbled then batted angrily at the tears that rolled from her eyes. She was done with crying over him. As Freya often told her, he was an adult responsible for his own actions and a father who should be trying to help his daughter, not make her life difficult.
Lacey thought of the great day she’d had at work, and the icing on the cake had been the exciting news of the train trip. Miss Ketty was always so kind. She was nothing like Lacey’s gran in looks or stature but was a cup-half-full type of person, always seeing good in others. Gran had been like that except when it came to Dad. He’d lost one job too many in her opinion and needed to pull his weight.
His deep breaths changed to ragged snores. Lacey gripped him by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shake. “Come on, Dad. Let’s get you to bed.”
Judith went straight upstairs as soon as the taxi dropped her off. Her shoes clacked loudly on the steps and her front door clunked shut behind her. After Ketty’s announcement and the excitement that had followed her apartment seemed empty, every sound amplified and echoing in her tidy kitchen.
The plastic bag of containers rustled crisply as she lifted it to the bench. Ketty had insisted she take some of the leftover food with her. Judith placed it in the fridge and as she went to close the door her hand hovered over a bottle of pinot grigio. Perhaps Dean would like a nightcap. He was much younger than her and moved in different circles, and she was only the woman who lived upstairs, but they were good friends nonetheless. She hadn’t seen him much lately, but his light had been on as she’d approached the front door of the apartment building. And she was sure Lacey wouldn’t be there. She’d rushed out the door after Ketty’s gathering to make it in time for the next bus home.
Judith looked at the stack of containers Ketty had given her. Dean would appreciate some as well and Judith had far too much for herself.
She plucked out the bottle along with two of the containers and made her way downstairs again. Dean wasn’t a wine drinker but he always had beer in his fridge. She wondered what he’d think about Ketty’s train trip.
He took a while to answer her knock, not unusual, but when he did he had his phone tucked under his chin and pressed to his ear. The door was propped against the wheel of his chair.
“Yes, Mum, I was at a work dinner so I couldn’t talk then.”
He rolled his eyes at Judith. She knew when his mum called he’d be tied up for ages.
“Just brought you some food from our after-work get-together,” she whispered and held out the bag.
Thanks, he mouthed as he sat it on his on his lap. “I’ve already told you it was work, Mum.” He wheeled back and the door swung shut.
Judith was left outside gripping her bottle of wine. She waited, momentarily stunned, then made for the stairs again, her feet like lead weights.
“Hey, Jude!” Dean sang out, his deep melodious tone keeping perfect pitch. “I thought you’d followed me inside. Was that bottle of wine a decoration or did you fancy a drink?”
She looked back over her shoulder. He was propped against the doorframe, his stick in one hand and his cheeky grin masking the effort he would have made to leave his chair so quickly.
“If you’re not busy?”
“You know I’m not. And you saved me from a long call with Mum. She was happy to end the chat knowing you were here to look out for me.”
Judith followed him inside. His place was usually messy but tonight it was tidy – one of the better things that had come from his going out with Lacey. His apartment was smaller than Judith’s but more open plan, better suited to a wheelchair or manoeuvring on sticks like he was now.
“Find yourself a seat,” he called from the kitchen. “I’ll bring you a glass.”
Judith moved the abandoned wheelchair to one side and sat as Dean returned with a glass for her and a beer for himself. He settled opposite her in his favourite chair.
“Haven’t seen you in a while,” he said. “What’s the goss?”
“You know I never have any gossip.”
“You were late home. I saw your taxi pull in. Was it Friday drinks at work?”
“Yes, Ketty asked us all to stay on. We haven’t done it in a while.” Judith relaxed into the chair. “She had a special reason, as it turned out.”
Dean leaned forward. “You do have goss. Come on, spill.”
“Ketty’s booked a staff holiday, on the Ghan.”
“The train? Really?”
Judith nodded.
“How good is that? She’s a special woman, that Ketty.”
“She is.” Judith took another sip of her wine. Telling Dean and seeing his excitement made her feel a bit more comfortable about Ketty’s train idea. Judith hadn’t been keen to begin with but it was growing on her.
“Will Lacey be going too?”
“We’re all invited.”
Dean blew out a long, slow whistle. “That’s so cool. Lacey will love it.”
Judith sat back as he told her all about the previous weekend, when he and Lacey had caught the train to Woy Woy and had lunch at the pub. Lacey and Judith never indulged in idle chatter at work so it was only from Dean that Judith heard the details of their blossoming relationship. Tonight he was full of excitement – not that he divulged anything too personal but he was obviously happy.
Judith lifted her glass. It was empty. Like her life, really. Dean was family to her even if he didn’t know that. She hoped Lacey wasn’t going to let him down.
He stopped talking and drained his beer, then waved a hand at her glass. “Another?”
“I’d best be off.” Judith rose from the couch.
“Good to see you and thanks to you and Ketty for the food.” He followed her to the door. “Good night.”
His door clunked shut behind her, the sudden silence weighty. She strode forward and up the stairs to her apartment, her steps clacking loudly again.
Once inside she closed the door, leaned back against it and shut her eyes. Her body felt heavy, the combination of too much wine, fatigue and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on, an unrest that stirred in the pit of her stomach.
She pushed away from the door and dragged herself into her little kitchen, replacing the wine in the fridge. The cupboards were old but they gleamed under her care. The curtains at the window were only new. She’d made them last year. Ketty’s gift of a violet in a pot from last Christmas was a bright splash of purple on the well-worn bench.
Judith refolded the dish cloth that sat on the sink. Not a thing was out of place. She flicked on the kettle to make a cup of tea, then stared into the cup as she slowly jigged the bag up and down. The people she counted on were moving in different directions, leaving her behind. After the exciting evening at Ketty’s then drinks with Dean, her home felt hollow and she with it.
three
Day One – Darwin Berrimah Terminal
Ketty paused on the edge of the shade thrown by the terminus verandah. People surged around her. She stepped to one side and slipped on her sunglasses. In front of her a single sign stood atop a pole on the platform. Darwin was printed on it in large letters and in small print above, The Ghan. Beyond the sign, the famous train itself stretched out like a giant serpent basking in the sun pounding down from a cloudless blue sky.
Finally they were there. Ketty sent a silent thank you to her travel agent. The woman was worth her weight in gold. Somehow out of all the chaos of the last month she had cobbled together their bookings and constantly changing plans and pulled off a holiday for Ketty and her five staff. She should be excited but a combination of lack of sleep, concerns about whether she’d done the right thing – Judith had questioned her sanity after she’d announced the trip – and the undercurrent that still simmered beneath the surface at work had kept her spirits in check.
Added to the mix would be the presence of her old friend Carlos. They’d first met many years earlier on a cruise, Ketty as a passenger and he a head waiter. They’d kept in touch and had been on the same cruise ship several times over the years, with Carlos working his way up to maitre d’. Their last cruise together had been aboard their beloved Diamond Duchess. He’d retired just before the cruise industry had been decimated by the pandemic, but then between that and his parents needing him he’d been unable to get to Australia as he’d intended. At last things had fallen into place for him. Over the previous Christmas and into the new year he’d spent some time with Ketty and some with his cousin in Brisbane, but then his mother had died and he’d had to go back to Spain. He’d planned to return to Australia mid-year, but when Ketty had told him about the train trip he’d brought forward his plans and had booked a cabin with them on the Ghan.
Then his poor father had died just two weeks before he was due to fly out to Australia. Carlos had deferred his travel plans once more, but his sister had found out and insisted he not put his life on hold any longer. There was nothing more but paperwork to be done in Spain so he’d agreed. But then the airline had changed his flights and he’d only landed in Darwin that morning. Ketty had received a text from him as she’d been going to breakfast at the hotel to say he had indeed arrived, albeit without his case which he was trying to track down and he’d meet her on board.
She looked again at the train that was to be their home for the next three days and nights; the red of its large locomotives a brilliant contrast to the sleek silver carriages that continued down the track, around a slight bend and beyond her sight. Although they weren’t in the same carriage, Carlos had been told their cabins were close and that they could dine together.
“Ketty!” Birgit’s call shrilled along the platform, making heads turn.
Ketty glanced around. Her ladies were standing in a mismatched group near the front of the engine. They’d arrived in Darwin two nights earlier, and even though they had enjoyed their brief visit, there was still a subtle tension that hadn’t completely gone. Ketty had hoped being on holiday would act like some kind of magical fix-it elixir but so far that hadn’t happened and she had work to do.
Birgit was beckoning wildly at her and the others were all waving for her to join them.
Ketty had only taken a few steps in their direction when Tien hurried forward and reached for her case.
“Let me take that for you, Miss Clift.”
“It’s small and on wheels.”
“But your arm…”
“Is well and truly healed now.” Ketty glanced at her wrist where there was still a faint difference in skin colour since the plaster had been removed a few weeks earlier. No matter her protest, Tien wrestled the handle from her grip and they joined the others.
“We’re having a group photo.” Birgit’s Irish brogue deepened. “I’ve lined up this fine Irishman to take it for us.”
Ketty glanced across at the young man holding up a phone, smiling brightly. Even though Birgit had been born in Australia and as yet never set foot in Ireland, she’d learned the accent from her family. Only in her early thirties, Birgit was a fine seamstress, completing garments with the high standard Ketty expected but recently there’d been a few mistakes. Birgit had accepted responsibility and made them right but extra expensive fabric had to be sourced in one case and had cost them a customer in another.
“Come on, everyone,” Birgit called. “Get organised. Let’s give Rory our best look.”
