Page 1 of Autumn at the Oak Leaf Café
1
Coming Home
Madeline Fellow’strain was three hours late.
What should have been a relatively straightforward two and a half hours of reading a generic airport paperback turned into a near six-hour marathon, exactly what Madeline hadn’t wanted from her first day back in England in more than two years. However, despite being far from the ideal start, it had been made semi-tolerable by the train driver’s increasingly erratic ongoing commentary.
A delivery driver had suffered a flat tyre while crossing the line just outside of Exeter. Having inexplicably failed to charge his phone, he had decided to walk to the nearest village, only to fall into a river while attempting to get a look at a pair of swans, resulting in a hastily galvanised rescue operation which left no emergency vehicles to move the stuck delivery lorry from the line. He had apparently been pulled out of the Dart Estuary some time later, babbling about mermaids and fish that could talk.
At least, that was how it had been relayed over the train’s announcement system, in such excruciating detail that the passenger sitting beside Madeline had torn pages out of his book, stuffed them into his ears, and attempted to go to sleep. The notification board at Brentwell Station, warning of delays caused by a fallen tree, was something of an anti-climax.
Madeline’s father, Jonas Fellow, was waiting for her at the station, which brought both joy at seeing him for the first time in so long, and regret at the absence of her mother. He saw her the moment she alighted, threw his arms open wide and pulled her into a warm bear hug. In an instant she was a little girl again, finding safety and comfort in her daddy’s arms. Then she pulled away, noticed how much he had aged, and remembered just how many years had passed.
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t come home sooner,’ she said. ‘I wanted to come back for the funeral. I really did.’ She sniffed, wiping away a tear. ‘I’m kind of a little … angry that I wasn’t told.’
Jonas looked down, giving a little shake of his head. ‘I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, but … it was what she wanted. She knew what you were doing was important to you.’ He sniffed. ‘I know we were divorced, but I was still fond of your mother. And the way she would never let her health put a dampener on anyone else was just her all over. She didn’t want anyone to wear black at her funeral. It was all Hawaiian shirts and floral dresses. We looked ridiculous, but your mother would have loved it.’
‘I still would have liked to be there. I could have ended my contract sooner.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. I only did what your mother asked. And really, when you think about what she always said—that a funeral was a little bit late to be saying goodbye—it makes perfect sense. You spoke to her on video call the night before she died. She died in her sleep, Madeline. You were the last person to see her alive.’
‘The last thing she said was that she loved me,’ Madeline said. ‘And I said, “Mum, don’t be so soppy.” I wish I’d told her that I loved her instead.’
Jonas put an arm around her shoulders. ‘It’s just words,’ he said. ‘She knew. Anyone can say the words, but love that’s been growing over a lifetime doesn’t need any. She knew you loved her.’
‘Thanks for saying that.’
Jonas clapped his hands together. ‘So, you’re back in England. My little girl. And you’ve lost weight, by the look of things. I imagine it’s all that running on Australian beaches. Don’t worry, we’ll soon sort you out. Pasties or fish’n’chips for your first meal back home?’
‘How about pasties with a portion of chips, and a fish to go halves on?’
Jonas grinned. ‘That’s my little girl.’
There were a couple of good takeaways across the street from the station, so they picked up their order then walked to a little park nearby and sat on a bench beside the river. The sky was clear, the air crisp, with clouds building behind the hills on the far horizon threatening rain later in the evening.
‘Are you sure you’re all right, Dad?’ Madeline said, as they started to eat. Out across the river, a couple of ducks twisted among the reeds.
Jonas nodded. ‘Don’t worry about me, love. It’s been a little strange getting used to retirement, that’s all. Your mother’s death didn’t help.’
‘I can imagine.’ She patted him on the knee. ‘You’re your own man, now, though, aren’t you? No more business meetings or weekends at the office.’
The words probably came out a little more bitter than she intended, like a coffee with not enough milk. Jonas looked at her.
‘I wasn’t that bad, was I? I gave you and Eric as much of my time as I could.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.’
Jonas sighed. ‘I know. It was always on my mind, you know, while you were growing up. Am I working too much, am I spending enough time with you and your mother? I never forgave myself for missing your netball final with that stupid client golf day.’
Madeline laughed. At the time she had been gutted not to see his face in the crowd, but by the end of the game it had felt like a relief.
‘We got hammered,’ she said. ‘I was kind of glad you weren’t there.’
Jonas gave a dismissive shrug. ‘You know, your mother often felt like you went overseas because you harboured some sort of resentment towards us,’ he said. ‘I think that’s natural that parents think their kids hate them.’
Madeline shook her head. ‘Of course not. I just wanted to travel, that’s all. It’s been eight years, though. It might be time to settle down, at least for a bit.’
Jonas tossed a chip into the river. Immediately, half a dozen ducks came racing towards it, quacking like maniacs, water splashing up behind them.
